


As All Dreams Do

by Selcier



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dreaming, Emotions, M/M, Obikin Big Bang 2018, sorry for the chapter switches!!!, this gets existential
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14199327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selcier/pseuds/Selcier
Summary: Every night, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi dreams of another life; one where the Republic is embroiled in a horrible and never-ending war. But in the morning, the terrible details of that life begin to fade -like all dreams have the tendency to do.However, Obi-Wan cannot forget the face of his Padawan learner; and, too curious, he sends for one Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine. He arrives at the Temple, an outsider, and Obi-Wan’s heart stammers at the sight of him. It seems Obi-Wan does know him from a galaxy far, far away.





	1. Part 1 - Chapter 1

_I take my time looking around at the assembled Council members; each of their faces solemn at the proceedings as is their way. But they are bathed in the light of the sun in a lovely juxtaposition of dignity and luminosity. Beams of golden rays reflect off of the shining engraved floors and the dull gleam of the council chairs. Mace looks almost blinded from his position as he squints at Anakin standing in the center of the room._

_I watch from the doorway as Yoda leads Anakin through the traditional words. It's amusing to watch him struggle to correct his own syntax over that of Yoda’s. He pauses often, trying to turn each vow around so his lips can shape the subject and verb before the action. I’m smiling, remembering my own difficulties performing the ceremony. Such is the last test of a Padawan Learner._

_But the ceremony moves smoothly and with haste. All too soon Yoda confirms Anakin’s new title of Jedi Knight. I can’t see his face from my vantage point but I’m sure he is grinning; never one to hold back his joy or sadness for the sake of ceremony. He bows deeply, signalling his own acknowledgment of the new role, and turns for the doors. I am proved correct as his face is alight with appropriate pride and aplomb._

_My heart swells with delight and I step back out into the receiving chamber in tandem with him. The door hisses shut behind and seals us from the Council's eyes. I smile up at him, my own happiness for him overriding any conditions of propriety. The stain of military command and an ever-growing war fall away. “My dear Anakin, please let me be the first to congratulate you. Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker!”_

_His smiles softens as he gazes at me. We both bow, a simple tilt to the waist, as Anakin mumbles a deep, “Thank you, Master.”_

_And I know, in that moment, his gratefulness is genuine and not the result of a chiding reprimand like so many other times before. “Have you decided on the fate of your Learner’s braid?” I ask as we move towards the lifts._

_He actually blushes and looks nervous as the doors close. “I have, Master. I-”_

_“Come now Anakin,” I say, elbowing him gently in the arm. “My given name will be much appreciated. I hope never to have so much responsibility bestowed upon me again as a Master.”_

_He relaxes; the strain draining from his shoulders and elbows me back. “Of course, Obi-Wan,” he says, drawing out my name with sarcastic impertinence. I raise an eyebrow at his behavior but it is all in good humor._

_“I was meaning to say that I’d like you to cut my braid.” He continues. And then, he falters, tripping over his words. “That- that is... I’d be honored.”_

_I reach out to him with the Force to convey my own gratitude and our minds brush against each other as equals. “Of course, Anakin. The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”_

 


	2. Part 1 - Chapter 2

Obi-Wan uses the anonymity of his featureless robe to watch his guest from across the Hall. He’s young. Untested. And ignorant in his use of the Force.

Nonetheless, Obi-Wan’s heart stammers at the sight of him. He takes in the hard set of his shoulders and the long, lean line of his back. He carries himself well; confident. In the wide Hall, his Force presence flickers with a sliver of nervousness. Unsurprising, however, as outsiders are so rarely invited into the Temple. Anakin’s face betrays none of his hesitance. He looks around him with curiosity and a hint of awe. His eyes trace every Jedi to wander past; and in moments of complete unselfconsciousness, he raises his gaze to take in the soaring height of the ceilings and the brilliant rays of light filtering in through the pale columns.

His face is the same, however. Blue eyes set over a straight nose. Dark eyebrows and tanned skin; the smooth line of his jaw sharp. His hair is longer, having never been cut into the severe style of a human padawan, and curls in loose waves around his ears.  Obi-Wan greatly enjoys looking his fill.

But he would be remiss in forcing his guest to wait too long without an introduction so he approaches him from behind, clearing his throat as he nears.

Anakin turns, his eyebrows raising in question. “Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi?” He asks.

Obi-Wan smiles both to set him at ease and at the sound of such a familiar voice. “Yes,” he says to confirm. He bows at the waist as is the Jedi custom and holds back an amused chuckle as Anakin attempts to reciprocate.

When they both straighten, Anakin makes an aborted movement to hold out his own hand. “Anakin Skywalker,” he says instead. “I received your invitation. Obviously.” He grimaces.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says ignoring his fumble. “I appreciate you taking the time to visit with me. Your employer informed me that you are not often on Coruscant.”

“Not doing much piloting if I’m surface-side,” he says. He shuffles from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable in the Temple. And no wonder, with the Force flowing like a rip tide through the Hall as Jedi come and go. He must feel it tugging, demanding mindfulness.

“Would you join me for tea?” Obi-Wan asks.

Anakin shrugs, glancing around him one more time as if reminding himself where the exit is. “Sure,” he says and then clears his throat. “I mean, that’d be nice. I guess.”

Hiding his smile, Obi-Wan leads him through the main corridor, watching his face and the widening of his eyes. They pass by the towering statues of Jedi from the Old Republic and the massive entrances to the libraries and common meditation rooms. They take a lift, thankfully absent of any other Jedi, up to a higher level and move quickly down another grand hall to a more intimate room.

Obi-Wan directs them to a table set back in one corner. A few of the Jedi who are already seated glance up as they walk by but are thankfully too far removed from Obi-Wan’s acquaintance to question him. They settle into a booth with low, firm seats across from one another over a short table. As soon as they’re seated, a serving droid brings over a tray of steaming tea and crispy biscuits before rolling off to assist another table. The room is large enough that they have no immediate neighbors. But, despite the ceilings fading into shadow above them, its small enough that there isn't a ringing echo with every word spoken. Obi-Wan allows Anakin to settle, watching him as he eyes the tea tray and the other tables with mild concern and a hint of expectancy.

Ever the host, Obi-Wan leans forward to serve drinks for both himself and Anakin. He uses one hand to slide back his outer robe and tunic sleeve while he pours. If he were with another Jedi, or perhaps Senator Organa, he might perform the entire ceremony. But Anakin looks overwhelmed, so he simply pushes the other man’s cup forward with a calm smile.

“Thank you,” Anakin says as he picks up his drink with the tips of his fingers like he expects it to be too hot to touch.

Obi-Wan settles back into his own seat with his cup knowing that the Temple droids always brew to the perfect temperatures. He’s never once burned his tongue. The same can’t be said for his own brewing habits. “You’re welcome,” he says.

Anakin glances around at the room again, his eyes narrowing in on a pair of Jedi watching a tiny holo projector while their companion seems to be nodding off into sleep in his seat.

“I hope I have not sullied your expectations of the Temple already,” Obi-Wan says, looking to lighten the atmosphere. “The main Hall does make for quite an intimidating entrance but I believe you’ll find most of our daily life quite like that of an average Republic citizen.”

This teases a small smile to Anakin’s lips. “Honestly, I expected a lot more chanting,” he says. His eyes immediately widen at the shock of his own words and he jerks in his seat, glancing around at the surrounding tables as if a nearby Jedi might pull out his lightsaber at the comment.

Obi-Wan laughs softly. “I believed you came at the most opportune time, then. Traditionally, Jedi chant only to the last light of the setting sun. We have quite some time until the next exhibition.”

Anakin’s face and posture relax a bit and he offers Obi-Wan his own tentative smile. They lapse back into silence as they both finish their drinks. Obi-Wan pours another cup for Anakin and then himself. The low murmur of conversation in the room and the scent of herbs soothes the tension.

“Tell me, Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan says, his tea cup in hand. “What do you know of the Force?” He blows on the steaming water, watching the other man over its rim.

Anakin looks distantly uncomfortable as he squirms in his seat. He rearranges his legs underneath him a few times; first with both of them folded and then pulling one leg out so it dangles off the edge of the firm bench. He shrugs. “Not much. I know that it's everywhere. And that if gives the Jedi their power.”

Obi-Wan smiles at the description. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of sorcerer set to summon a demon from the seventh level of Corellian Hell.”

Finally, a small smile brightens Anakin’s face and he reaches for his own cup with more ease. “Well, to us regular folk…” he shrugs again, “that’s kinda what it's like, isn’t it? Moving stuff with your mind. Making people do things they don’t want to do. Nobody would say that’s normal.”

He winces with his last statement and glances at Obi-Wan like he offended him. With a hurried look around the room to see if anyone overheard his comment, he shifts in his seat again.

Obi-Wan keeps a relaxed smile on his face. “With grievances such as these, it would seem as though the Jedi jumped off the screen of an old folk tale. Child-snatchers; collecting babies from around the galaxy to raise in a forbidden temple in secrecy.” He raises his eyebrows and sips at his tea.

Anakin looks around again and Obi-Wan sighs, taking pity on him. “I apologize, Anakin Skywalker, I am only teasing.” He sets his cup down on the table dividing them and curls his own legs up and under him. “I did not ask you here to create an enemy.” He pushes the tray of biscuits closer to the other man. “In fact, my intentions are quite the opposite.” 

Taking the bait, Anakin reaches for the food. “You want to be friends?” He sounds unsure and surprised, but not unwilling.

“Well, yes, actually,” Obi-Wan says, his smile growing. He relaxes slightly, his hands sliding into his sleeves.

“With me?” Anakin asks. He raises an eyebrow.

Obi-Wan can see that his offer would be surprising. And unprecedented. “You’re wary, of course,” he says. “And I have my reasons. Hence my question about the Force. Unfortunately, you will find my tale to quite impossible - to be quite frank- but I hope that you will refrain from judgement for the time being.”

This seems to intrigue him and Anakin cocks his head to the side. “I don’t think there’s anything out there that’s impossible. Just because I don’t see the wind on my face, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t cool my cheeks.”

“A poetic sentiment,” Obi-Wan says. He reaches again for his tea to distract him from the flutter in his heart. It is difficult to imagine the young man from his dreams saying such a thing. That Anakin is too hurried; too impatient, for the feel of the wind.

Obi-Wan cannot help but compare them. This Anakin Skywalker appears older; not of the body but of the mind. A certain wisdom and patience from freedom among the stars. Had a childhood at the Temple been so stifling? Had the Order snuffed out a beautiful mind from ever existing? He can admit to himself that he thought they would be more similar: rash and confrontational. Overconfident but compassionate. But this contentment suits him, Obi-Wan decides; like the Anakin Skywalker he knows but yet...not.

Anakin leans backward, resting his drink in his lap while Obi-Wan pours himself another steaming cup-full. The dull murmur from the other tables highlight his next words in their opposition: “To put it briefly, we’ve already met.”

“Have we?” He sounds skeptical and his words come out as monotone disbelief.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, smiling ruefully to himself, “In a certain manner of speaking.” He takes a breath before continuing, sipping his tea. “The Force, well, it is what gives a Jedi his power. You were correct in that. But more so, it's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together.

“And for most of my life, the Force has chosen to show me the life of another being. Through dreams.”

Eyebrows raised, Anakin jumps to a plausible but incorrect conclusion: “And that person is me? You’ve been dreaming about me?”

“Not quite. It’s myself I dream of.” Obi-Wan pauses and looks directly at Anakin face, his expression serious. “Another me from another place. A Jedi as well. But with a very different life. When I go to sleep, he wakes up and I observe. When he goes to sleep, I wake up. I would assume he sees my life as I see his. But we’ve never...” He trails off, not sure how to explain their connection.

It suddenly occurs to him that he’s never spoken of this out loud before and it seems completely ridiculous in the open in the light of the hall. Like the daylight has exposed his dreams as nothing more than silly and childish delusions. Like he’s betraying the confidence of the Force itself. Is his counterpart experiencing this moment as he speaks and finally learning that he wasn’t alone in his dreams? Or does he not share the same affliction as Obi-Wan and dreams of other things. Whichever the case, Obi-Wan wishes him well.

“You’re right,” Anakin says, interrupting his thoughts, “It does seem impossible.”

Obi-Wan smiles but feels no joy in it, anticipating the sentiment. “It does. And for much of my life I discounted that man’s experiences. When I was young, they were inconsequential. Dreams spent wandering the halls of this very Temple. Sitting in classes and running basic drills. Dreams no different than the nighttime visions of my crechemates had. The minutiae of the brain working through the challenges of their days.”

“And then something changed?” Anakin asks. He leans forward and his posture reminds Obi-Wan of Jedi Knight Anakin watching clips of Senator Amidala’s presentations to the Senate: rapt attention and curiosity.

Obi-Wan looks down at his cup. He can see his own reflection, murky and dim, reflected back on the surface of the dark tea. “Yes. Eventually we had separate lives. He went on to take a Padawan Learner and I… well I didn’t, I suppose.”

Anakin says nothing for a moment, but his face creases in consideration. Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to reach out in the Force. It's a familiar gesture; one the other had done a thousand times to his own apprentice. But it's a slight shock to experience the sensation without the hazy lethargy of the dream world.

Obi-Wan’s breath hitches at the feel of Anakin’s mind against his own. Untrained and raw. But solid and comforting. Like an old blanket that had been left out in the cold. Anakin’s presence recoils for an instant before bumping up against Obi-Wan’s with all the grace of a newborn animal.

Obi-Wan flushes at the sensation, suddenly aware of how forward and blatant his actions are. If the other Masters and Knights, most spread out throughout the levels of the Temple and some sitting so close at their own tables, knew-

“And what about me,” Anakin says as their minds touch again. His fingers shake around his cup.  “How do you know me?”

A shiver runs down Obi-Wan’s spine. He keeps his body still. The only outward acknowledgment of the connection he allows himself is to meet Anakin’s eyes over the table. He brushes himself against the man again, too weak to curb his own desires. This is what that other Obi-Wan must feel. This condemned and blasphemous connection with another person. This person.

Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine.

Obi-Wan licks his lips, the sensation of being so close to another overwhelming. “Last cycle,” he says, his voice cracking as he attempts to speak. He shivers again. “You were Knighted by the Jedi Council, my young padawan. I’ve trained you since you were a youngling. I’ve seen you grow into a fine Jedi Knight. And...” he trails off, searching for the right words, “I would know you in this life too, if I may.”

Their minds separate like a wedge driven into a cut of stone and both Anakin and Obi-Wan recoil, shoulders and back tightening with the sharp disconnection.

“Oh,” Anakin says, a bit breathless. “Well kark me then.”

Their conversation is limited afterwards and Anakin seems anxious to leave. He fiddles with his cup, glancing towards the entrance. Obi-Wan expected such a reaction, but the harsh disappointment still stings.

Once they’ve exhausted their tea, Obi-Wan graciously escorts Anakin back down through the Temple and to the grand Entrance Hall with a few polite words of farewell. They both bow, Anakin’s eyes darting about at the surrounding Jedi, and part ways.

Obi-Wan watches him go and tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robes. The Force offers him little comfort.

*

** [incoming message: 22BBY075-19:58 via Malastare] **   _Is this other Anakin a pilot then?_

** [outgoing message: 22BBY075-20:00 via Coruscant] **   _A Jedi, but yes, a pilot as well. And the faster the ship, more pleased he is, I’m sure._

** [outgoing message: 22BBY075-20:01 via Coruscant]  ** _ But it is not that Anakin whom I wish to know better. I wouldn’t have contacted if you that were the case. You are the one I can see with my own eyes. Yes, perhaps my association with that Skywalker has captured my curiosity. But it does not mean to follow that we cannot be acquaintances in our own right. I apologize if I was reticent in explaining this as I relayed my story. It was not my intention to deceive you. _

** [incoming message: 22BBY075-20:04 via Malastare] **   _Just acquaintances? Not friends?_

** [outgoing message: 22BBY075-20:04 via Coruscant] **   _You’ll find that the Jedi often limit themselves to acquaintances._

** [outgoing message: 22BBY075-20:05 via Coruscant] **   _And you’ll find that I’m not a very good Jedi_.

*

Their second meeting comes as a pleasant surprise to Obi-Wan.

Anakin returns to the Temple again a few months later; this time with his head held high with a certain sort of determined confidence. It radiates through the Force turning heads and garnering second glances from the surrounding Jedi in the main Entrance Hall. He’s clearly a beacon in the Force, bold and blinding, and completely unaware of his staggering talent.

Obi-Wan doesn’t even consider hiding his warm smile when they bow to each other.

They decide to avoid the tea room and content themselves with walking the extensive halls of the Temple. They take their time, stopping to look out the windows and to discuss the statues and commemorative plaques. With every new room they pass, Anakin cranes his neck to see in, his eyebrows shooting up in anticipation and his steps faltering to find the best view. Obi-Wan enjoys watching him; his child-like curiosity a stark difference from the solemn boy that first came to the Temple after leaving his mother behind for a cold welcome of irate Masters.

They draw their own curious stares as well. It's not uncommon to see a civilian in the Temple as the majority of the support staff are not among the Order. But together, they make an odd pair. Obi-Wan gravitates towards Anakin like a planet around its sun. He finds himself staring up at his face, flushing, and teasing him as if they were old friends.

“You can’t blame me for thinking that this all sounds completely crazy,” Anakin says quietly as they come up on a class of younglings in meditation practice. They’re fidgeting, their faces creased in concentration and frustration as the Master guides them, dotted about on their tiny mats. Anakin and Obi-Wan watch from the wide doorway, leaning up against the frame.

Obi-Wan nods, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe and remembering his own first attempts at meditation. It comes easier to him now as sometimes the surrender of sleep looses its appeal. “You probably think me the greatest of liars,” he says with a light tone.

“No, not really,” Anakin says. “When I lived on Tatooine I heard a lot of crazy stories from the deep space pilots. I believed them when I was a child; never once thought they were liars. So, why not, I guess? We’ve got an entire universe to discover. Why not another one?”

A few of the younglings manage to find a brief meditation. Obi-Wan can tell from the way their shoulders slope and their jaws relax. The tension in their faces bleeds and their features settle into a blank slate. But despite his joy at their accomplishments, he can’t look away from Anakin for long.

“Is it just you… having these dreams? Is this a Jedi thing?” Anakin steps back away from the doorway and Obi-Wan follows. They continue down the hall towards the training rooms passing Jedi from a thousand different worlds.

Obi-Wan keeps his voice quiet when he answers to avoid the echo of the tall ceilings. “I have never shared my affliction with anyone else. If it were something that Force users in general experience, than I believe I would have come across it by now. I’ve searched the records for any mention of a similar experience and have found nothing. And, if it does not exist in the Jedi records, than it doesn’t exist at all.” He smiles to himself. “Well, at least according to Jocasta Nu.”

Anakin looks sideways at him, an eyebrow raised. “You think the Jedi know everything?”

“Of course not. In my own person I can see a gap in their knowledge.” Obi-Wan gestures off to the side of the hall to one of the large open mat-rooms and Anakin follows him inside.

Here, the floor slopes down in a steep angle to allow for long benches that overlook the bouts below. A few Jedi, mostly Padawans, sit scattered about the stands with their robes abandoned beside them and their foreheads heavy with sweat and exertion. A few call out encouragement or corrections to those on the mats and others lay back with their arms thrown over their head to block out the harsh lights of the room. The heady smell of burning ozone fills the air as lightsabers crash and crackle against each other from a few of the more vigorous bouts. Some practice hand-to-hand combat, ducking and blocking in a whirl of pale robes and bare feet.

Anakin and Obi-Wan settle in towards the back, out of the view of the majority of the practitioners. Anakin seems content to watch for a long while and Obi-Wan indulges him, happy enough to watch his eyes flicker over the combatants and their forms. He yearns to invite Anakin down for a round of their own.

Instead he leans back against the bench behind him on his elbows. “Have you been trained formally at all?”

It's shocking, he realizes, how little he knows about the man sitting next to him. Suddenly, he feels ashamed at his haste in creating this new friendship. How uncomfortable it must be for this Anakin Skywalker to sit next to a Jedi who claims to have trained him, who claims to know him more intimately than anyone else, but to know nothing. To not even recognize the saber forms. To wander about the Temple Halls and have no memories of walking to his own practice.

Anakin doesn’t seem to notice his distress. He’s smiling as he watches the matches, his eyes following the paths of the sabers and focusing on the footwork. “No, unless you count a stint in a boxing ring I had when I first landed.” He looks over at Obi-Wan and grins. “But I think I spent more time on the floor than anything.”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to ask more when a shadow falls over them.

“Obi-Wan, good evening.” 

Obi-Wan shoots to his feet but still has to crank his neck to look up at the taller Jedi. He is as inscrutable as ever with his arms folded across his chest and his robes immaculately arranged.  “Master Jinn. I did not expect you back from Naboo so soon.” They bow, Obi-Wan fumbling in his haste.

Anakin peers out behind him, curious but still seated with his elbows on his knees.

“The Nubian business was quite fixed. I performed my duties and took my leave,” he says in his pronounced manner. He gazes lands on Anakin. “I have not met your guest.”

Obi-Wan winces at the insinuation. Qui-gon always disapproved of his connections outside the Order. But with a war on a universe away, Obi-Wan could never be bothered to be a pious as the rest. He says, “Of course. Master Qui-gon, this is Anakin Skywalker. A friend I met recently on while on Alderaan.”

Thankfully, Anakin stands then. “I run a galley out of Coruscant,” he says. He doesn't offer his hand this time and instead gives Qui-gon a perfunctory nod.

Qui-gon raises an eyebrow. “You are in trade then?” Instantly, Obi-Wan knows he disapproves.

Anakin either doesn’t notice his cold attitude or chooses to ignore it. “A pilot. But yeah, for a shipper.”

Making a noise of comprehension, Qui-gon seems to lose all interest in him and focuses back on Obi-Wan. “Master Tin has informed me that you have been selected for the mission to Ghorman. I wanted to be the first to extend my congratulations.”

Obi-Wan holds back his sneer and Anakin stiffens next to him as if he can feel the tension. “This is the first I’m hearing of this assignment. If I’m not mistaken, I will be gone for months.”

“I’m sure that the Council will forward you the details soon,” Qui-gon says completely ignoring Obi-Wan’s jibe. “And you would be offered a wider variety of missions if you had a junior padawan to accompany you. Assignments for Knights are always more arduous.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, his voice tight. “I will keep that in mind.”

Never one to loiter after any sort of mission, Qui-gon nods at Anakin and offers Obi-Wan a clipped bow. He returns the gesture with a sigh of relief as Qui-gon turns and leaves.

Obi-Wan and Anakin settle back into their seats but the content atmosphere had long since been wiped away. Although, at least none of the padawans seem to have noticed the encounter and are still engrossed in their own activities.

“I am sorry that I entangled you in my own falsification,” Obi-Wan says, looking down at his hands in his lap. “My former Master tends to dally in my personal affairs to a higher degree than I would welcome.”

Anakin’s nose wrinkles up. “That was him? Your Master?”

Obi-Wan smiles at Anakin’s offense. He laughs, his mood lightening. “Yes. Although you can see we are not close. We never agreed on much when I was his apprentice. And now that I have the ability to make my own judgments, I can’t say that my inclinations have changed.”

A shout from below distracts them and Anakin leans forward to see better. Two of the padawans have locked themselves in a grapple with sabers and hands pinned against each other. From the sidelines, their peers call out with excitement. Their good cheer fills the Force.

After a moment, Anakin hums, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. His eyebrows furrow. “Do we get along? I mean, that Anakin and that Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan keeps his eyes on the younger Jedi as the only senior in the room. The two circle around, pushing hard enough that their arms muscles flex and bulge. “I would love to tell you that we have the best of relationships. But... we have been at odds too often for me to ignore. I admit that I am thankful that I have met you as an adult ad not as a child.” He pauses, glancing over at Anakin’s contemplative face as the two fighters break from each other. They’re panting, their faces flushed.

He thinks of times spent running drills with that Anakin Skywalker until they collapse on the mat in exhaustion. About how much more relaxed they both are outside of meetings and missions. And how only a few months of fighting has dragged any chance of such encounters away from them.

“Am I some sort of brat?”

Laughing, Obi-Wan stands and folds his hands into his sleeves. Anakin blinks up at him from his seat. “No, not of such. You are intelligent and fool hardy and stubborn. I fear that we are - we're too similar.”

“And you wanted to meet me anyways?” Anakin says, sounding incredulous.

Obi-Wan smiles. “I did. Very much so, in fact.”

Anakin grins back at him. “I think I’d like us to be friends, if we can,” he says.

“I would like that, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. His words fill the Force like the first blooming flower in a field of tall grass and Anakin's smile mellows into something like happiness.

"Now," Obi-Wan says, "How about the docks next?"

*

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-01:13 via Alderaan]  ** _ The hyperdrive’s karking blown. Looks like I won’t be back to Courscant any time soon. Sorry I don’t think I’ll make it for tomorrow. _

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-01:56 via Coruscant] **   _Alderaan isn’t such a miserable place to be stranded. I’m sure some diversion will entertain you sufficiently.  And I’ve confirmed about the date you asked me about. I will not be away._

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-01:57 via Alderaan] **   _I suppose you’re always the voice of reason, aren’t you?_

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-01:57 via Alderaan]  ** _ Wizard. _

** [outgoing message: 22BBY20501:58 via Coruscant] **   _I believe the Jedi Council would beg your pardon. They claim I - and I quote - never follow orders without an argument, am too focused on the petty details of my missions and am hot-headed._

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-02:13 via Alderaan]  ** _ Well, is it true? _

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-05:34 via Coruscant] **   _Possibly._

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-05:56 via Coruscant]  ** _ Probably. _

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-05:56 via Coruscant] **   _Yes. Definitely yes._

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-05:57 via Coruscant]  ** _ What are your plans for dinner? _

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-06:04 via Alderaan] **   _A group is going out to try out some local joint. Not really my kind of place though. I’m helping the Chief Engineer with the repairs._

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-06:04 via Alderaan] **   _Why? Thinking of stopping by to take me out on the town? Can you even leave the Temple?_

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-06:23 via Coruscant] **   _Don’t be ridiculous. You know perfectly well that Alderaan is too far away for dinner plans. But perhaps I could manage to arrive for brunch tomorrow if I hurry? I’ve heard the new Delta’s hyperdrive is 45% more efficient._

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-06:23 via Coruscant] **   _And no. I am unable to simply appropriate an Order ship for a jaunt around the galaxy. Those vessels are needed for important diplomatic endeavors. I do have some scruples, you know._

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-06:24 via Alderaan] **   _Right. Like when you borrowed that Federal speeder while on Ghorman to stop the assassination of that old Prime._

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-06:24 via Alderaan]  ** _ And you can’t just drop Delta upgrades like that, Kenobi. You know I’ve been dying to get my hands on the new schematics. You karking bastard. _

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-06:27 via Coruscant] **   _I had hoped you had missed that particular holo broadcast._

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-06:27 via Coruscant] **   _The image they used made my face look like a swollen fruit._

** [incoming message: 22BBY205-06:28 via Alderaan] **   _A bit vain, aren’t you._

** [outgoing message: 22BBY205-06:31 via Coruscant] **   _Possibly._


	3. Part 1 - Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****Chapters have been moved around/changed form their original format!! Part 3 - Chapter 1 is the first new chapter since April 2018. Sorry for the changes!!!!*****

_ I know Anakin senses the danger approaching in the sudden flex of his shoulders and the tense set of his jaw. He’s leaning over the top porthole of the stranded vehicle, trying to help a clone soldier pull himself from its smoking hull. _

_ I cry out just as the explosion throws Anakin from the top of the tank and the life of the clone snaps from existence. _

_ But I don’t have a moment to run to him as I wish. The enemy squadron is bearing down on our position. I can vaguely see them through the sheets of rain and thick fog. They're ghostly, the only points of illumination on their metal bodies lighting up when their blaster fire. The normal tell-tale sound of their clicking gait is drowned out in the deep mud and the never-ending pounding of the rain. _

_ “Commander Cody,” I say, trying to keep myself from sounding desperate over the comm. I look over at where Anakin’s body has landed face down in the mud. He isn’t moving, but at least he’s out of most of the droids’ fire. “Status report?” _

_ “We’ve taken out their forces in orbit, sir. We’re starting out landing procedures now.” _

_ The clone crowded next to me in the deep wet trench, Gunter, makes a noise from the depths of his helmet and I can’t help but agree. We bump shoulders in the tight quarters. “Understood, Kenobi out,” I say. _

_ I tear my mind away from the stillness of Anakin’s back and focus on my lightsaber. Its solid and warm in my hand; familiar. I used to enjoy it. The swing of the blade and the sizzle as it crashed against another. _

_ It's been ages since it’s done anything but carve through a battlefield. _

_ Commander Cody’s squad rips a line overtop of us clearing the way with a barrage of suppressive fire. My heart lifts at the sight as the Clones surrounding me whoop and holler as droids fall with crackles of electrical discharge. _

_ I run for Anakin. _

_ He’s breathing when I roll him over. Luckily, he landed with his neck turned enough that the mud didn’t clog his nose. But his mouth his full of dirt and debris and I scoop it out with my fingers, cradling his head in my lap. Scratches and scrapes mar his tanned skin slowly seeping with bright blood. The explosion must have caught him from the side as part of his cheeks are burnt and shinged. _

_ Distantly, I’m aware of the rest of my division running after the remains of the droid army. _

_ I lower my face to his. There’s blood running from his ears from the explosion. My heart thrums, the pain overwhelming for an instant. “Force,” I say, my voice no more than a whisper and my eyes squeezed shut with a deep relief. “Please bring him back to me.” How many times must I see him like this? How many more times can I think him gone from me? _

_ His heart beats under my hand but my own has gone cold in my chest. _

_ I sense Captain Rex’s presence before he touches my shoulder. “The medic's on his way, General Kenobi,” he says. “They’ll take care of him.” _

_ “The enemy?” I manage to say. _

_ “Retreating.” _

_ I nod and stagger to my feet under Anakin’s weight in my arms. I’m careful to cradle his head against my chest. Mud coats my boots and pants up to my knees. Its damp coldness seeps into my bones and the rain pelts down on my shoulders. Droplets land on Anakin’s lax face and leave dirty trails down his cheeks. _

_ I know Rex won’t question my lapse in command. He has too much of Anakin in him. _

_ “Understood, Captain,” I say. My throat is dry after days of fighting and exhaustion makes my legs unsteady. “Please inform Commander Tano that General Skywalker is in transit to medical. She’ll want to know.” _

_ “Understood, sir.” He salutes, turns on one heel and returns to his troops. _

_ I close my eyes and wait for the transport back to the ship in orbit. The Force offers me little comfort. _

_ He stays unconscious for a few hours afterwards. I'm told that he hasn’t suffered any significant head injuries and that his brain hasn’t started to swell at all. Although, the Force is quite about him as he sleeps and it unnerves me to see him so still. I stay by his bedside until he wakes, useless to my troops in such a state. The churn of recycled air dulls my mind with it’s white noise. _

_ I know that I should be ashamed at my actions but, for the time being, I can’t bring myself to care. _

_ Anakin wakes slowly; his eyelashes fluttering and his mechanical fingers twitching on top of the sheet. His mouth turns down into a frown almost instantly as his eyebrows furrow together. I can tell he’s in pain but I know he’ll never admit it out loud. _

_ “Anakin,” I prompt softly. _

_ He turns to me, his eyes opening and blinking against the harsh light. “Obi-Wan?” he mutters. _

_ I help him to sit up and find him some water to drink. He’s been placed in a separate facility than the other wounded. I know he would complain about the special treatment but right now I prefer the privacy. _

_ “You were on the tank when it exploded,” I tell him. “The explosion knocked you unconscious.” _

_ He sips at the water again, rubbing at his neck. I’m sure it sore from his impact with the ground. “And the men?” _

_ “Commander Cody informs me of a full Separatist retreat.” _

_ He nods and I take the glass. He stares down at his lap and the remains of his robes. The medics had cut off his outer layers to check for any lacerations or punctures. _

_ I clear my throat, suddenly realizing that he might not want visitors. “Excuse me, Anakin. I wanted…” I stand, turning towards the door. _

_ “Wait,” he says, his voice scratchy despite the water. “Won’t you stay, Master, just for a bit? Rex and Ahsoka can handle themselves for now.” _

_ I pause, my back towards him. I know I have loitered too long already. Clearly, he is well enough. I should return to my duties. _

_ “Please, Obi-Wan.” _

_ I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t turn back around to look at him. “I must report to the Council, Anakin. But I’m glad to see that you’re doing well.” _

_ I leave before he can say anything else. _


	4. Part 1 - Chapter 4

“You’ve really quite outdone yourself, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says as they struggle to move through the crowd outside the arena. He keeps close to the taller man, unable to see too far above the heads and shoulders of the masses of people milling around.

His dream from the night before comes to him in a flash, as if he’d forgotten already, with the press of bodies around him. He glances to his right to make sure Anakin is still beside him. He is, of course, and looks much more healthy without mud and blood splattered across his chest and face.

Anakin laughs, smiling. “I’ve been saving up since they announced the game.”

They’ve seen each other a few times since their first meeting in the Temple. Mostly, they’d confined themselves to the Complex itself where Anakin had looked more out of place with every meeting. Once they met for an unfortunately stilted conversation over lunch in one of the many Jedi dining halls where they both found themselves unable to speak as candidly as they wanted.

Obi-Wan revels in the change of pace this afternoon.

The sun beats down, merciless, as it reflects off of the surrounding superstructures and glittering windows. Obi-Wan’s robe shields him from the worst of its direct heat but he can feel sweat beginning to pool in the hollow of his neck and gather under his arms. There’s a cool breeze, as there always is so far up in the city canopy, but it does little to take the edge off the smoldering duracrete pavilion. It's a stark difference from the night he spent in the rain.

Anakin looks cool enough in his light colored shirt that exposes his tanned arms. They’re paler than Obi-Wan remembers from his dreams. He assumes that a lifetime spent in a star ship instead of on a battlefield has led to the difference. Obi-Wan blinks down at Anakin’s hands. Fully flesh and blood; hardened fingertips scorched by soldering irons and lacking any caullasses that would be caused from hours in lightsaber drills. Its strange, he considers to himself, for the man to be so physically similar but lack such key characteristics to set him fully apart.

“And don’t worry, Obi-Wan,” Anakin says, grinning even wider. “I got us some of the best seats in the house.”

Anakin steps closer to Obi-Wan and touches his elbow with the lightest of pressure. Just enough to steer him to the side. Obi-Wan glances up at him, in good spirits. “I admit that I am honored that you chose to invite me.”

“Please,” He says, shrugging. “I know you’ve never been to a game before.”

Obi-Wan nods, feeling a tad silly. “Of course not. Such frivolity isn’t sanctioned by the Jedi Council.”

Anakin chuckles. “No, of course not,” he agrees. “What is, exactly?”

The stadium itself looms above them in multiple tiers and collections of balconies. Nestled within the rooftops of the tallest buildings on the planet, the edge of the promenade boasts a stunning view of the city. Banners, stories high and saturated with color, sway in the breeze and are held back from blowing away by only their enormous moorings. Obi-Wan can pick out a few recognizable symbols; a dark beast on a blue background from Manadore, a brilliant collage of florals from Felucia, but the rest he’s only seen in passing. In his dull Order robes, Obi-Wan feels like a piece of the surrounding architecture compared to the festive colors flashing about from every angle.

The other patrons treat them with a wide berth. A few stare, their eyes tracking Obi-Wan’s every movement across the wide terrace. Others point and speak to their companions while tugging each other out of his personal space. Anakin seems not to notice the attention and keeps his eyes up at their destination. But Obi-Wan feels a different heat, one of embarrassment, creep up onto his face from the attention.

Such displays are commonplace when he leaves the Temple. And even in the decades he’s spent on Coruscant and other planets, the feeling of walking into a room and having all eyes turn towards him grows tedious but no less awkward. He longs for a moment of anonymity in the largest city in the galaxy.

“This way,” Anakin says as they enter the stadium through a massive set of doors. He touches his fingers again to the back of Obi-Wan’s upper arm to lead him in a different direction than the flow of people.

Obi-Wan glances behind them as they leave the queue. “Anakin, are we-”

“It's fine, Obi-Wan,” Anakin says. His face become shadowed in the sudden lack of bright light from outside. It's already cooler in the belly of the massive building. “I got us box tickets so we don’t have to sit in the regular stands.”

Obi-Wan flushes, glad of the dim lighting. “That was very generous of you,” he says and means it.

Anakin grins at him. “This way I have you all to myself.”

So maybe he has noticed the staring. Although, this thought doesn’t lessen Obi-Wan’s joy at the thoughtful gesture. In fact, the realization makes the gift all the more important.

The private box isn’t just for them. That would be an expense far beyond Anakin’s means, Obi-Wan thinks. Perhaps the type of thing a Coruscanti socialite might purchase. But there are only a few others milling about the seats with drinks in their hands and placid expressions on their faces. They, of course, look surprised at his presence but have the decency to go back to their conversations after taking in their fill.

They settle in at two seats on the edge of the box with a fantastic view of the rink below. There’s no transparisteel to block their view but the seats themselves are set underneath an overhang that keeps the sun from their eyes. With the light breeze, the seats are sufficiently comfortable and happily situated. Obi-Wan wastes no time in settling in and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe.

Anakin leans in Obi-Wan’s direction, his hand on the armrest between them, pointing and grinning at the sights below. “-and there, just behind the yellow tent on the side, that’s the-”

Obi-Wan smiles at his prattle, happy to be on the receiving end of his attentions. “I have missed you, Anakin,” he says once the other man windes down a bit and orders drinks for the two of them. “It's been far too long.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Anakin clinks his glass against Obi-Wan’s in with a light tap. “Cheers,” he says. “To friends.”

“To friends,” Obi-Wan says, echoing the sentiment. He brushes up against Anakin in the Force, attempting to display his happiness though his mind instead of through his words. He lacks the ease of ability, that so many others have, to express himself.

Anakin returns the sentiment, giving him a soft smile, and turns back to the arena. It isn’t long before Obi-Wan finds himself listening to Anakin’s breakdown of the events with rapt attention. Despite his low level of interest in the proceedings, he finds Anakin’s passion on the subject intoxicating. And he is swiftly carried off in the minutiae of statistical analysis and historical data on the various speeder bikes.

Below, there must be some cue given as many of the figures milling around the speeders scurry away from the track and the crowd takes up in a loud cheer. Within moments, a piercing alarm sounds as the bikes roar out from the starting grid.

Leaning in closer to Obi-Wan, Anakin says “Rossi’s the favorite to win today. Well, he’s the favorite to win every year I guess.”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to ask if Anakin had ever given the sport a try when he is interrupted from behind.

“And with good reason too, I think.”

They both turn, looking back over their shoulders to the new arrival. “Oh,” Obi-Wan says, surprised but but not disappointed. “Senator Organa! I had not thought to see you here, sir.”

He stands, circling around his chair so that he can bow properly. But Organa motions for him to stand straight with a subtle tick of his fingers and instead they shake hands as old friends.

“I had not thought to be here, Knight Kenobi. But a good friend was fortunate enough to have extra tickets.” He shrugs and turns his gaze over to Anakin.

Obi-Wan takes the invitation to introduce the two of them. “Senator Organa, may I present to you my good friend Anakin Skywalker.”

Anakin stands and bows; his back tight with tension. “Senator,” he says, his tone much more formal than usual, “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Master Skywalker,” Bail says in return. Anakin flinches at the title.

Obi-Wan fingers tighten around his glass.

But Anakin rallies himself and ignores the unintentional slight. “Are you a racing fan, Senator?” He asks.

“Not particularly, I admit,” Bail says and holds up his own drink. “But I’m always interested in good company and well-made beverage. And you, Knight Kenobi? I wouldn't think the Jedi Order a patron of speeder racing.”

“I find that I am alone in my attendance,” Obi-Wan says. “Anakin was so kind to invite me along this afternoon. I doubt I would have attended if not for his thoughtfulness.”

Anakin flushes under the comment and Bail laughs, not unkindly, at his distress.

“I see,” Bail says. He looks briefly back over his shoulder at a group loitering near the opposite end of the box. They glance furtively over at Obi-Wan and Bail, eyeing them from afar in curiosity. “I should rejoin my party, at any rate.” He takes a moment to bow at the waist to Obi-Wan and then reaches for Anakin’s hand without pause. “It was a pleasure to see you, Obi-Wan. And to make your acquaintance, Master Skywalker.”

“You too,” Anakin says while Obi-Wan voices his farewells. Anakin’s sincerity rings true in the Force and Obi-Wan’s heart lightens at the exchange between two of his friends.

They both sit back down in their seats as Bail leaves. Anakin leans forward, anxious to catch up on the proceedings below. Luckily, they don’t seemed to have missed any crucial events. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have wanted to disappoint Anakin by distracting him from the race for too long.

As the announcer updates the throbbing viewers in the stands on the rankings, the crowd screams as the first and second place speeders vie for position. From what Obi-Wan can see, the leader manages to keep his advantage around a severe double corner.

Anakin relaxes back into his seat with a huff when the tense moment eases. “Though she had him there for a second,” he says, his face bright with the drama of it all.

“Is Rossi the leader?” Obi-Wan asks. He squints to read the scoreboard.

“No, this isn’t the top division. His race will be up later.” Anakin looks over at Obi-Wan and grins. “Enjoying yourself, Obi-Wan?”

“I am, in fact.”

Looking over at Bail’s group for a moment, Anakin faces scrunches up, contemplative, and his eyebrows furrow. “Do you know a lot of Senators?”

Obi-Wan sips at his drink, glad of it in the warm afternoon. “A few. The Jedi are often called on to mediate disputes. And sometimes, we provide protection for members of the Senate and other planetary leaders. Senator Organa is both of these. He’s married to the Queen of Alderaan.”

“A prince than?” Anakin surmises, his eyebrows lifting. “Kriff, I guess I shouldn’t have been shaking his hand.” He looks back at the group again.

“It is of little consequence, I’m sure. Bail is more than his title.”

“Bail?” Anakin says into the rim of his glass.

Obi-Wan smiles at him. “Yes. I tend to be on a first name basis with all those I’ve had in my bed.”

Sputtering, Anakin chokes on his beverage, taking too large a gulp. He coughs, trying to clear his throat without spitting anything back out. “Kark, Obi-Wan!” he gasps.

Laughing, Obi-Wan helpfully takes Anakin’s drink from his hand so he doesn’t spill it. “Don’t act so surprised, Anakin,” he says as Anakin continues to cough and massage his chest. “You must have thought me celibate!”

Anakin’s croak turns into his own laugh and he looks over at Obi-Wan with a red face and tears gathering on the corners of his eyes from coughing. Grinning, his shoulders rattle as he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re a sadistic bastard, Knight Kenobi,” he says.

Obi-Wan hands Anakin’s glass back to him and he takes a long drink to clear his throat. As of one mind, they both instinctively look behind them to see if Bail’s party had noticed anything amiss. They’re still conversing in low voices, some members looking over to the race track. They don’t appear to have overheard. Anakin and Obi-Wan exchange a glance and Anakin rolls his eyes.

“You’re missing the race,” Obi-Wan comments, gesturing out towards the arena.

Anakin shrugs. “There’ll be another next year,” he says. He leans against the armrest between them again. Their elbows bump on the narrow surface. “Maybe you’ll come again?”

“I would like that, Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan says. “If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, I will.” Anakin smiles at him, at ease, and turns to the arena.


	5. Part 1 - Chapter 5

_ We drop out of hyperspace in the middle of the battle. Flashes of turbo laser volley back and forth between the assembled ships and chatter immediately overwhelms the communication controls. _

_ I sigh. _

_ “Looks like General Skywalker has already engaged the enemy,” Commander Cody says from my side around the holotable. _

_ I’m not sure I manage to hold back my amused impatience. “That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Especially because I gave him a direct order not to.” I can't help but let a fond tone seep through my voice. Anakin would comment that he learned it all from the best, anyways. _

_ “Anakin, I want you to withdraw,” I say despite the fact that I know he’ll argue with me, leaning over the table. _

_ Immediately, he brings up all the reasons to avoid following orders. I’m sure that Yularen is whispering encouragement to follow my request. The man is a good leader and always keeps his troops’ well being in the front of his mind. Sometimes Anakin forgets how to retreat. Stubborn. _

_ He relinquishes his attack, however, and covers his fleet’s escape as they retreat behind the moon. My shoulders sag with relief once I know he’s out of danger for the moment. He also tends to forget that his life is a fragile as the rest of us and that his loss would be a mighty blow to the Jedi Order. _

_ I ignore the way my heart skips when I consider Anakin falling in battle. I have no time for these inappropriate lines of thought. _

_ It is heartening, at least, to know that Anakin trusts my judgement. _

_ He arrives by shuttle to my Destroyer and with only a bit of cheeky ceremony and I meet him in the hanger. “Well, here I am. Tell me about this new weapon.” _

_ I take a moment to scan his body for injuries. It has been too long since I last saw him in person and I fear my tendencies as his Master have not totally disappeared. I think back briefly to the last time we spoke, when he was lying, pale as a Nubian Queen, in Medical. _

_ “You’re looking at it,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest. He looks whole and healthy and I my shoulders relax. _

_ He raises an eyebrow, probably midley annoyed that I’ve taken him away from the battle. “I’m looking at what?” _

_ I give in to my urge to tease him further. “Two steps forward and you’d actually be kissing it.” As soon as the words fall from my mouth I regret them and blush. What a thing to have said! And especially in front of the whole hanger. _

_ Anakin looks almost shocked with wide eyes and his mouth parted. _

_ I stumble to correct my lack of tact. “it's a stealth ship.” _

_ As if on cue, the trooper beside me keys in the command on his tablet to de-cloak the ship. I’ve seen it before, so I watch Anakin’s face instead. If he looked surprised at my comment before, its lost in his excitement. The Force flares out around him, uncontrolled, for a brief moment. I shiver under its intensity. _

_ We argue, of course, then about whether or not Anakin should use the tiny vessel to attack the Separatist ships from behind. I insist that you use it to finish his assigned mission. _

_ “Oh i’m still the delivery boy then,” he says with a pout. _

_ I keep my words firm even though my eyes wander towards his lips, thinking about my statement from earlier. Turning away, I trail my hands along the side of the long ship. “Anakin, slow down and do what i tell you. It's more important to save lives than destroy ships. I need to you continue the Mercy mission.” _

_ He sighs in annoyance but relents. I can see the moment he accepts my judgment. He smiles suddenly and I know he is still excited to pilot the ship on its first mission. I remind him that the technology is new. I could never forgive myself if something happened to him. _

_ He guides it out of the bay and I have to look away when the hull disappears and I'm left with the deep black of space. _

_ Of course, he doesn’t fully heed my warning. We argue. I become emotional. The moment he disconnects communication and I’m left with silence, my hands clutch the edges of the holotable with such ferocity that it cracks. Cody says nothing. I don’t try to re-establish the connection and instead I watch the battle with my breath held in my chest. _

_ I am ashamed that the thought of losing him overwhelms my control. _

_ Later on, it doesn’t surprise me that he finds the most daring and foolhardy way to completely decimate the enemy flagship. _

_ Anakin establishes communication with me immediately. He appears, tiny, blue and flickering with an audacious grin on his face. “I hate to admit it,” I say because it is true, “but good job, Anakin. We’re beginning our attack on the separatist fleet.” _

_ “Have fun. I’ll be delivering the supplies to the surface, Master.” _

_ I smile at the sound of his voice and wish him well. I try not to linger on the flush of his excitement in the Force, even as far away as he is, but I do not succeed. _


	6. Part 2 - Chapter 1

**[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:28 via Coruscant]** _How long will you be gone?_

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:31 via Coruscant]** _Maybe a few cycles. It doesn’t look to be a lengthy assignment. Nothing like that stint I had on Mandalore._

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:31 via Coruscant]** _I don’t think I can ever forgive the Council for charging me with such an negotiation._

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:32 via Coruscant]** _*in his most shrill-Obi-Wan voice* “They had me at the table for months, Anakin, months!”_

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:33 via Coruscant]** _Please. I sound nothing like that_.

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:34 via Coruscant]** _You know, I’ve heard from a credible source that if you would lower yourself to taking on a padawan, you won’t get these types of assignments anymore._

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:35 via Coruscant]** _I would sooner offer to become Chancellor Naberrie’s footstool._

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:35 via Coruscant]** _Watch out, Obi-Wan. Apparently she serenades her lovers with the Republic Constitution before bed. You might find yourself ensnared in her Senatorial charms if you don’t watch out._

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:35via Coruscant]** _Wait._

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:36 via Coruscant]** _Have you met her?_

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:37 via Coruscant]** _Just twice. And more in passing._

**[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:31 via Coruscant]** _And Force, you have quite the imagination._

**[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:37 via Coruscant]** _Did you really hear that rumor?_

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:39 via Coruscant]** _On my last pick-up on Scipio. Seems she dating Senator Clovis. They’ve been on and off for years._

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:39 via Coruscant]** _I could never date a Senator. It’d be all politics and speeches all the time._

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:40 via Coruscant]** _For some it might look more like parties and banquets all the time._

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:40 via Coruscant]** _You mean like your life, o’ Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi?_

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:40 via Coruscant]** _I’ll have you know that I spend at least two hours every day in the practice ring._

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:41 via Coruscant]** _How come I haven’t seen any of these skills?_

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:47 via Coruscant]** _Do you want to?_

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:48 via Coruscant]** _Yeah! Of course!_

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:48 via Coruscant]** _But I assume I’ll see them at the same time as the new Delta... As in never._

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:49 via Coruscant]** _Anakin. That ship has been released now for two years. It's hardly new._

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:50 via Coruscant]** _Well *I* still haven’t seen it._

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:51 via Coruscant]** _I’m not sure if I can manage the ship. But I think I could scrounge up some practice sabers if you’re interested._

 

 **[incoming message: 19BBY126-06:51 via Coruscant]** _Hell yeah I am!_

 

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:52 via Coruscant]** _Good._

 **[outgoing message: 19BBY126-06:52 via Coruscant]** _I need to go. I’ll call you when I’m back on Coruscant._

 

[ **incoming message: 19BBY126-06:52 via Coruscant]** _Wizard._

 

*

 

They’ve just extracted themselves from the welcome reception after touching down on Ryloth and were shown to their rooms in the State building when Qui-gon dismisses the guide. The suite itself overlooks the garden and the pale colors leave Obi-Wan feeling relaxed and contemplative. He’s been looking forward to a short nap before the expectations of the evening are upon them.

During the journey, he had re-read his conversation with Anakin repeatedly, smiling at their words in the privacy of his own quarters. It hadn’t become long after their first acquaintance two years ago that Anakin’s words had perhaps become even more important than the other Anakin Skywalker and certainly more important than any Jedi. 

He settles with smile  into a chair in the main living space immediately as Qui-gon loiters in the entryway. The taller Jedi examines the room with a sour face. 

“Obi-Wan, this relationship with the boy must end.” 

Sighing, Obi-Wan looks up from his tablet. “Master Qui-gon,” he says, “This is hardly the time.” 

Unlike most of his assignments, this one is of a decidedly more pleasurable nature. Normally the Council prefers to send him to the bargaining table as a third party mediator as he has shown a unique affinity for negotiation. But he can’t complain at the welcome change of pace: The Senatorial elections had just ended and, as per tradition, the new official needed to sworn into office with the accompaniment of a planet wide celebration. Obi-Wan and Qui-gon were selected to attend.

Belatedly Obi-Wan wonders if Qui-gon requested their placement on the guest list so that would have no means to avoid the conversation. He has little difficulty believing such an action to be below the other Jedi. Not when it concerns his last, and very wild, padawan. 

“I have always urged you to think of the here and now, my young Padawan,” Qui-gon says gruffly. He stands in the entrance to their shared quarters with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He critically eyes Obi-Wan’s lax posture in the comfortable chair and Obi-Wan resists the urge to straighten up at the familiar address.

“I have always taken your direction under consideration,” Obi-Wan says instead. He distantly mourns the loss of his free afternoon and switches off his tablet, ready for an argument. Despite having left his apprenticeship almost twenty years ago, it seems little has changed. How like the Jedi Order.

Qui-gon steps closer, coming into the light of the room. He avoids the other pieces of furniture and chooses instead to tower over Obi-Wan’s low seat. “I do not offer advice to hear myself speak. I give it so that you may have the opportunity to improve.”

Obi-Wan resists the urge to scoff and keeps his face neurtaily polite with effort. “And I thank you for your guidance,” he says respectfully.

But this seems to anger his former Master and he stalks about, his long legs covering the distance of the plush carpet multiple times before he turns his back towards Obi-Wan and faces the window. “I have tried,” he says, his voice low, “to guide you to the best of my abilities. And even though you have earned the rank of Knight, I find that I cannot sit by and watch you lose yourself to this mistake. This friendship,” he says turning around and all but spitting the word, “is a mistake, Obi-Wan.”

The first hot flush of anger surprises him and it holds Obi-Wan’s tongue with shock. His fingers curl around his tablet and his face heats at the accusation. “Lose myself,” he repeats in faint awe of the man’s audacity. “And what, exactly, do you mean to insinuate?” 

“That it is unbecoming for you to attach yourself so fully to this boy. Strong in the Force, in a raw and barbaric way, he may be. But you are a Knight of the Jedi Order. Not some lowly Force sensitive looking for a piece of connection. This attachment is beyond you.” 

“Barbaric?” Obi-Wan says in a strained voice. He hisses through his next words, attempting to control his temper. “He is a sentient being and therefore worthy of your respect. And it is of no consequence to you who I choose to pay my respects to-” 

“But it is,” Qui-gon interjects. “As you are a Jedi, your actions directly reflect upon the Order and upon myself. There have been rumors of you engaging in behaviors.” He pours a lifetime of insinuation in the the word. “You’ve been seen with him in multiple public venues. Attending races and bars. Engrossed in each other's presence. Acting without a thought to your reputation.” 

Speechless after such an onslaught, Obi-Wan can do nothing but set his tablet on the side table and stand with as much control as he can manage. His full height brings him tall enough to barely see above Qui-gon’s chest. Offense and a dim rage warp his face as his eyes narrow. “I will be the judge of my own acquaintances. The Order, and you, have no business in my private affairs.” 

“Acquaintance!” Qui-gon exclaims. “The boy looks the part of a schutta than an acquaintance. Perhaps his warm bed has addled your good sense, my very young padawan.” 

Obi-Wan slips a hand over his lightsaber, his mind a frenzied rush of afront and outrage. Qui-gon’s eyes flick to the movement and his features harden as if to weather a sandstorm..

“I see your ruin extends even deeper than I anticipated. I hope that-”

A knock on the door interrupts him. 

They both make no movement to answer or abate their stalemate. In the quite state of the room after their words, the sounds of the State Building carry through the room. Servants and staff members hurry about outside the door and from the lobby beyond calling instructions and reminders. Some, laughing with joy and caught up in the happy holiday, greeting each other with warm words. 

The person outside knocks again, this time with more haste. 

Obi-Wan lets his hand fall, his ‘saber still attached to his utility belt. “This conversation is over,” he says and turns to the door. 

Its a member of the staff sent to inform them of the time and location for dinner. Obi-Wan thanks the man and shuts the door when their brief conversation comes to an end.

Without turning back around to face Qui-gon, he heads towards one of the bedrooms and the ‘fresher within. The lock on the door will do little to stop a lightsaber but it gives him the illusion of privacy nonetheless. 

Thankfully, they are not seated together at dinner. 

The dining hall itself bursts with activity and conversation. Servants bring out course after course for the high-ranking guests while a band serenades them all through an extensive and exquisite dinner. Obi-Wan makes his best attempt at polite conversation with his neighbors but mostly encourages them to speak more with assenting noises and leading questions. No one seems to notice his lack of interest in their stories and his growing attachment to his wine glass, however, as the dinner winds down with and impressive spread of sweet treats and the party’s movement into the ballroom. 

A set of speeches and an official announcement of the election quickly turn into encouragement to dance and enjoy the festivities. Couples all but jump onto the dancefloor as the band conjures up a more festive selection of jigs and waltzes. Obi-Wan stays to the side, never more thankful at the Order’s stanch policy of maintaining a Jedi’s dignity at such an event. No one would even consider asking him for a turn on the floor. Instead, he keeps to basic conversation with increasingly intoxicated guests and circles the room to avoid catching Qui-gon’s eye.

It isn’t until early in the morning, when the drinks have run down, that he feels he’s stayed long enough to do his duty. He abandons the sweltering room for the gardens just as the sun is peeking over the horizon. 

Instantly, the cool air soothes his nerves and lightens the heavy sediment of the alcohol in his mind. Insects and foul alike chirp and coo in the early morning light as the sounds of the party fade as he moves away from the State Building. The air is filled with the thick pollen of flowers and trees and his boots are soon covered with yellow spores. Without a look back, he moves off the paths and into the short underbrush. 

He pulls out his comm, keeping his voice low in the splendor of the natural world. “Anakin?” The line chirps before the connection clicks on. 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin says, clearly surprised. His tiny blue form sits up, his hair mused and sheets slipping down from his torso. 

“I apologize Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, a bit ashamed at his unthoughtfulness. He gaze lingers on the dark shadows of Anakin’s broad shoulders. The heat of the dance hall seems to pool in his stomach and he blushes. “I failed to consider the time before I called.” 

Anakin shakes his head. “No, no. It’s fine. Is something wrong?” 

They rarely talk over the comms choosing instead to send messages. It's rare that both of them find themselves free from duties at the same time. “No, nothing important anyways. I’m on Ryloth for the swearing-in of the new Senator.” 

“Oh,” Anakin says as he yawns. “Boring political stuff then” 

Obi-Wan can’t help but smile. “It might be, if the locals weren’t so fond of lively party. I confess that I’ve had more to drink that few hour than I’ve had in some years.” 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says squinting and playful, “are you drunk?” 

“Possibly,” he laughs. 

They smile at each other and Anakin yawns again. Obi-Wan apologizes again for waking him so him in the middle of Coruscant’s night cycle. “Its fine. I have to go down to the Yard anyways to oversee the new flight computer installation. Stars know those engineers corporate always sends over wouldn’t know a jammer from their own ass.”

If Obi-Wan didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that Anakin was boasting. But a lifetime of living with the other, from a certain point of view, had taught him the true extent of a Skywalker’s skill. 

“Is it going well?” Anakin asks interrupting Obi-Wan’s contemplations. He’s in a maulin mood and is grateful for Anakin’s vivacious ways. 

“Well enough. The plan is to start the return journey in three cycles. But our schedules are flexible in situations like these.” 

“Someone else go with you?” Anakin asks. He rubs at his eyes and blinks, combing his fingers through his hair. 

“Yes, my Master. Qui-gon Jinn. You met once, at the Jedi Temple?” Obi-Wan starts to say and then pauses. “Although, I use the term ‘Master’ lightly as he no longer holds that title specifically in regards to me.” 

As if Anakin can sense Obi-Wan’s annoyance, cocks his head to the side. “Are you mad at him now or…” he waves a hand through the air. 

“While my counterpart and his own Master did not see eye to eye on certain subjects, he has long since joined the Force. No, it is with my own Master that I find fault.” He finds it strange how he can be simultaneously distressed at the thought of his Master passing so long ago and yet so frustrated at the argument they held just a few hours before. He huffs, annoyed at his situation. 

“You don’t, ah, agree with him about something?”

Obi-Wan comes to rest at a low bench. He’s surrounded by flowering bushes in this section of the grounds and the party, and the remains of the merry-makers are lost behind him in the distance. He sighs, propping his elbows on his knees and hunching forward. He’s wrung-out from night after night of slogging through mud and watching the Republic sag under the weight of the war. His earlier argument with Qui-gon rolls in the back of his mind confounded by his troubled nights. He’s already dreading the lecture he knows is waiting for him back in the State Building.

“‘That boy looks more like a whore than a friend,” he says with his most pompous approximation of Qui-gon’s tone. “‘Perhaps his bed has confused you, my very young padawan.’”

“You are drunk,” Anakin says. But his voice is stiff with anger.

Obi-Wan drops his head into his hands and groans. “I am,” he agrees. “Drunk. And...I miss you." 

Anakin’s face softens and he leans forward as if he could be closer to Obi-Wan even through the comm. “You’ll be home soon. Back to Coruscant, I mean.” 

Groaning, Obi-Wan nods and wipes at his face with the sleeve of his cloak. 

“You should get some sleep, Obi-Wan.”

He thinks of the battlefield that he left the prior night and grimaces. “I should,” he agrees. “It will allow me to see you again, at least.” 

He stands, staggering a bit as all his blood rushes from his head, but manages to head off in the direction of the State Building. The sun has risen a bit higher in the sky during their conversation and pale shafts of light illuminate the dewy foliage in bright colors. He trails his hand along one long fleshy leaf, quite forgetting himself in the wonder of the living Force. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says in a soft voice, the comm still open. “I miss you too.”


	7. Part 2 - Chapter 2

 

_I can tell that when the door to the Council Chambers opens and Anakin enters he is already angry. He tries to conceal it well, he hangs his head in a show of humility and respect but I know him too well for him to hide the truth fully._  

_Yoda, unreadable as always, doesn’t comment and the other Masters follow in his example. Despite knowing the exact reason for our gathering, I’m charged with maintaining my silence as well. I long to Anakin my true thoughts but I only allow a hint of my feelings show on my face._  

_“Anakin Skywalker,” Mace says in his solemn way, “The Council has decided to comply with Chancellor Palpatine’s directive, and with the instructions of the Senate that give him the unprecedented authority to command this Council. You are hereby granted a seat at_

_the High Council of the Jedi, as the Chancellor's personal representative.”_

_Anakin stands very still for a long moment, clearly unsure if he had heard correctly. His countenance seems to bloom before my eyes and he takes a deep and slow breath. “Thank you Master, “he says with true gratitude. “You have my pledge that I will uphold the highest principles of the Jedi Order.”_  

_“Allow this appointment lightly, the Council does not.” Yoda says, his ears curled forward at Anakin. “Disturbing is this move by Chancellor Palpatine. On many level.”_  

_Anakin nods, “I understand.”_

_I know that he does not yet fully grasp the situation and I open my mouth to explain. But Mace has been waiting for his opportunity and says “I’m not sure that you do. You will attend this meetings of this Council but you will not be granted the rank and privileges of a Jedi Master.”_

_Anakin flinches back as if he had been punched. I can only hold my words at the subsequent volley of words between the three of them. I know that we are asking too much of him. That Anakin is loyal to people and not ideas and he expects that loyalty returned. Anakin would stop at nothing to save a friend because he thinks they would do the same for him._

_I can’t wait no longer and interrupt their tableau. “Anakin,” I say and he gravitates towards me. I keep my voice gentle and gesture to the seat beside me. “Please sit down.”_  

_His anger deflates and his shoulders sag like he had been relieved of an enormous weight. He suddenly looks younger than he is. And really, he is so young, only twenty-two, and has been living under the shadow of the Chosen One for so long. I almost regret that my Master found him on Tatooine. Perhaps he would have-_

_No. It is not the time for silly daydreams._  

_We meet in the vaulted Temple hallway after the session ends. We’re turned towards each other, our voices kept low in a pantomime of privacy. We argue, of course. I feel we do little else of late. But the Council has tasked me with this order and I need to see it through._  

_I know I’m asking Anakin to betray the very principles on which he bases his life. To mislead and possible betray a friend. To choose one of his loyalties above another. To spy on Chancellor Palpatine. The rest of his appointment is all but a sham._  

_Ashamed of my request, I plead for him to listen with a long indrawn breath. “I am not supposed to be telling you this. Please do not reveal we have had this conversation,” I say, stepping closer and putting a hand on Anakin’s arm. “Palpatine himself may be in danger. Master Windu traced Darth Sidious to Five Hundred Republica before Grievous's attack - we think that the Sith Lorde is someone within Palatine’s closest circle of advisors. That is who you we want you to spy on, do you understand?”_

_His face falters, crumpling, and I know that I have done a terrible thing. I do not know if he will ever trust us again. And I’m not sure that he should._


	8. Part 2 - Chapter 3

 

It doesn’t take them long to leave the Gardens and the Tea Rooms of the Temple behind as their conversation withers under the eye of many a watchful Master. After the outing to the track, Anakin pulls Obi-Wan up and down Coruscant’s skyline in an effort to see as much as the city as possible. Sometimes they find themselves in public parks or leaning against the railings of walkways that crisscross the lower levels.

Anakin especially has a taste for cuisine from every nook and cranny of the galaxy and enjoys having Obi-Wan along to guide his selections. They frequent the dirty and oily back counters in the Mandalorian district, sample tiny morsels of seafood from Kamino in stalls along the skyways and even try out a restaurant claiming to specialize in home-village Tatooinian cooking. They decide it’s a poor showing. 

It's easy to forget about the war with Anakin smiling at him across a table.

They haven’t chosen a restaurant tonight. Instead, they’re up on high stools at a bar near Anakin’s apartment that he claims will curb a craving he’s been having for salty foods. It's certainly not a popular location, not being located in Coruscant's bustling nightlife district, but a fair amount of patrons lounge about on sofas and laughing in groups huddled around the bar. Obi-Wan hears their voices over the sound of the steady music but is too focused on Anakin’s mouth to pay them much mind. With every sip of his spirit, their surroundings seem to matter less and less. 

Their light conversation had been enough to distract him from the strain of the last few nights. They hadn’t been able to see each other as often as Obi-Wan would have liked. He’d been assigned a teaching position with the older Padawans in navigation and it had taken up much of his previous spare time. But Anakin had seemed sullen when they met; his usual spark of energy snuffed out.

“The woman across the bar keeps looking at you,” Anakin says in the middle of a conversation about the new entrance exams for Coruscant's flight academy. He leans his head in close to Obi-Wan, his breath brushing against Obi-Wan’s ear. 

He quirks an eyebrow at his friend and finishes the last of his drink. The bartender brings him another. “Is she? I hadn’t noticed.” 

Anakin’s knees bump against his under the ledge of the bar. They’re close enough that Obi-Wan can smell the tang of engine oil on Anakin’s skin and see the creases around his eyes from growing up under a harsh sun. He briefly thinks about smoothing them out with his thumb.

“I think she wants you to go over there and say something.” Anakin spins his own drink on the bar creating new patterns in the condensation dripping from the glass. 

Obi-Wan ignores the invitation. “Anakin,” he says laying a hand on Anakin’s to still his motions. His skin is warm and dry underneath Obi-Wan’s; his pulse thrumming in his wrist. Obi-Wan spreads his thumb across the delicate skin there to soothe him. “Is something wrong? You’ve barely said a word all night.” 

Through the Force, Obi-Wan nudges up against his mind. He can sense the tangible knots in Anakin’s presence and encourages them to relax as gently as he can. 

“No,” Anakin says in a dour voice, “Nothing that you can do anything about, anyways.” 

Obi-Wan nudges him with his elbow then instead of his mind with a impudent smile on his lips. “Really? That sounds like a challenge, Anakin Skywalker. What could you possibly want that a Jedi Knight could not provide?” 

Anakin’s hand flexes around his glass and Obi-Wan pulls his own hand back, surprised. 

“I apologize, Anakin. I didn't mean to offend you with my teasing.” 

The younger man’s mind tightens again and Obi-Wan doesn't know if another touch with the Force would be welcome. He wrings his own hands in his lap. “I would be happy to offer advice or commiseration if you would allow me.” He finishes his drink and the bartender brings him another. He can’t remember exactly how many he’s had. 

Anakin tenses and then sighs as if his frustration had left his body with his breathe. A tint of a smile forms on his lips. “Stars, Obi-Wan,” he says with a short laugh, “You’re so formal sometimes.” His smile widens. “But commiseration would be perfect I think. I’m beyond advice, unfortunately.” 

Obi-Wan takes his word for it. “What would you say to a change in scenery?”

Anakin raises his eyebrow, intrigued, and leans in closer. “What did you have in mind?” He glances over at the woman across the bar and Obi-Wan follows his gaze. She glances away under their look, flushing and murmuring to her friend. “I hope this doesn’t involve you leaving me and-” 

Obi-Wan’s face floods with heat. “You cad!” He says laughing at his own embarrassment. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“You said it, Obi-Wan.” Anakin grins and leans his chin on his hand, the woman seemingly forgotten. “But really, where to?”

“The Temple,” Obi-Wan says before he can regret it. “I want to show you something. And don’t worry. It's not the library or something equally as distasteful.”

Anakin wiggles his eyebrows, grinning. “Oh, another one of your Jedi secrets exposed to a barbaric outsider!”

The knots in his presence begin to unravel. Obi-Wan eases their passing with another nudge in the Force. “You’re hardly an outsider, Anakin Skywalker,” he says. 

It's always warm enough on Coursanct that they don’t need to bring any outerwear; but, Obi-Wan, of course, has his cloak and he slips it over his shoulders before they board the train back to the Temple district. The car they manage to clamber onto is stuffed with people despite the late hour and they have to stand close together to avoid being crushed with every jarring tilt around a bend. Anakin keeps his hand wrapped firmly around Obi-Wan’s elbow up until their stop and Obi-Wan flushes under the attention. Perhaps he’d had more to drink than he thought. The lights from outside the car flash by in the darkness in a whirl of color. 

In the shadow of the Temple the space between them grows as they make their way up the cascade of steps to the main entrance. Obi-Wan registers Anakin as a guest and vouches for his behavior inside the Temple. Thankfully, despite the title of Knight and not Master, the quality of Obi-Wan’s service is enough to curb any questions that might arise at bringing a guest at such a late hour. If he were a junior Knight, he would have needed permission from the Council or a chaperone. He blushes at the thought. Despite the fact that they’ve played this silly game many times, the experience always leaves Obi-Wan feeling ashamed.

Anakin says nothing, as usual; participating with congenial aplomb.

“We’ll go to my quarters,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin once they’re alone in the lift. “I have to check something on the Temple mainframe first.” 

Anakin looks surprised when they finally reach Obi-Wan’s assigned room at the end of one very long passageway. He’s on a floor facing away from the Senate Rotunda and out over the industrial district but the view spreads far enough, expansive and varied. Lights flicker across the scene in Coruscant's grey darkness. 

“Please sit for a moment,” Obi-Wan offers, sweeping his hand out to encompass the bed. His room is cramped even by Coursant standards with only space for a small, low table and his narrow cot. There’s a kettle nestled in one corner with a mug for when he’s shuttered himself in for the evening. He flips in on.

Anakin settles in on the edge of the bed, his smile bright again as he takes in the room. 

“Is it what you expected?” Obi-Wan asks as be pulls up the central database on the panel on the wall. 

“Maybe,” Anakin says tilting his head to the side and leans back, bracing himself with his arms. “Don’t know what I expected.” 

Obi-Wan glances over at Anakin as he pulls up the training room reservations. He blushes at the sight of him against his own blanket and has to look away again. “No rumors of enormous empty rooms with rows and rows of sleeping mats?” He says to cover his embarrassment. 

Anakin laughs, his mood form earlier seemingly forgotten. “That sounds like something someone’s said to you before!”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan says, teasing. He keys in his reservation and switches off the screen. Anakin shuffles over to makes space for him on the bed and Obi-Wan tosses his robe to the floor before settling down.

The tea kettle chimes and Obi-Wan flushes, embarrassed again. “It seems I’ve forgotten that I don’t normally have visitors,” he says. “I only have one mug.” 

Anakin laughs again. “It's fine, Obi-Wan.” He flops back on the thin mattress with his arms up over his head and his legs splayed open. His heels drag on the floor. “Tell me about my surprise instead.”

“I’ve reserved a training hall for us,” Obi-Wan says without preamble. “I promised you the use of the-" 

Anakin jolts up, his hands flying to Obi-Wan’s knees. “What? Are you kriffing serious?”

Obi-Wan’s heart jumps in his chest. “I wouldn’t tease you about that, my dear boy,” he says with a small smile.

“Just about the Delta,” Anakin says but he’s grinning. “Kark me, Obi-Wan." 

Obi-Wan has to look away from him so Anakin doesn’t see the sudden longing on his face. His fingers feel swollen with the alcohol in his system, his fine motor control gone. He flexes then in an attempt to ignore the swell in his chest and allows his words to flow to ease the ardor of their closeness on the bed.

Their slot doesn’t come up for another twenty minutes so Anakin takes the opportunity to grill Obi-Wan about power cells and casings and focusing crystals. By the time they make their way back to the lift and down to the lower halls, the Temple is quiet and still with only a few Jedi and workers moving about the Halls. The two visible moons hang high in the sky but at too steep an angle to shine in through the large windows and the hallways are dim, the lights lowered for the sake of any naturally nocturnal eyes. 

Down in the deep underbelly of the Temple, where the training stalls are located, only the glow of the entry computers light the way. Anakin and Obi-Wan bump against each other in the dark filled with a childish exuberance and too stubborn to instruct the Temple computer for light. They stumble the last few paces to the propper terminal and Obi-Wan keys in his information, squinting at the bright screen, as Anakin jostles him from behind. The alcohol in his stomach seems to slosh across his vision and he sways.

“You can’t possibly be drunk,” Obi-Wan mutters once the computer chimes and allows them entry to the stall. He isn’t sure if he means to say that to himself or Anakin. Perhaps neither. He frowns, confused for a moment. 

Anakin all but elbows past him on his way into the room and Obi-Wan can feel his excitement in the Force. “Please,” Anakin scoffs. “I’m completely sober.” They hurry through the doorway as if they afraid of being caught loitering in the halls past curfew. A silly idea, as Obi-Wan is old enough to come and go as he pleases. 

The door hisses shut behind them and the only lights come from a ring around the room near the floor. Anakin grins at him from the center of the room. The warm, yellow light reflects off the sharp angles of his face, highlighting his cheekbones and the smooth curve of his eyebrows. For the first time perhaps, Obi-Wan doesn’t even think that a dark robe or the shining hilt of a lightsaber on his hip could improve the sight. His face flushes at the inappropriate though.

He should raise the lights but-

He goes to the panel near the door and opens it to reveal rows of sabers with various hilts and power settings. He plucks two from their stands that are of equal strength. “These will do,” he says as he turns to Anakin again.

Anakin’s face splits into an even wider grin as soon as he opens the glowing green blade. “Wizard, Obi-Wan!” He flicks his wrist and his whole arm around in an unpracticed slash. The blade whizzes through the air crackling and hissing. The glow of the saber glows like a beacon in the dim room. 

Obi-Wan laughs at his joy as he unclips his real saber and places it in the cabinet for safe-keeping. He clips the practice saber onto his utility belt in its place. “Please remember that it will burn you,” he says, exasperated but fond. 

Anakin swinshes the blade through the air again, spinning a bit as he finds his balance with it. He adjusts his grip a few times switching from one-handed to two-handed and back. He settles in with this left hand and grins at Obi-Wan’s confused expression. 

“Your dominant hand is the right,” he says. 

Anakin laughs, “Is it?” He switches the saber to the other hand and then back to his left. “This feels better.” 

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Of course it does,” he says, teasing and fondly exasperated. 

He steps up alongside Anakin so that they’re both facing the same wall. Distantly, in the back of his alcohol addled mind, he misses being able to watch Anakin’s face. But he pushes those thoughts away and clears his throat. “I’ll show you the basic steps of Form I, I think. They are applicable to many forms of armed combat.” 

Pulling out and igniting his own saber, Obi-Wan raises his arms up in a two handed grip to the first movement. The saber sizzles next to his ear, the power tuned low. It's a distinct difference than his own powered blade. He waits for Anakin to copy the movement before pulling the saber across his field of vision to the other side of his body in the same position.

  
The next four moves come fluidly to him. It's been a long time since he's practiced such basics but they’re inganted in his muscles from hours spend practicing with the other initiates. His body flows into the third move with the saber extended directly out in front of him, one foot stabilizing the balance from behind, before bringing the tip down towards the ground and into the fourth move. Anakin comes with him as they lower themselves to floor on one knee while bringing the saber back to a ready position and then forward again in the fifth and sixth movements.  

They stand, leaning back to access the balance of both feet and raising their sabers to flow back into the first move again. Anakin’s presence explodes with excitement and they move through each stance again, and then again for a third time, as he falls into the steps and positions. 

Obi-Wan steps away for their sixth repetition as Anakin sets his own pace alone. He considers adjusting Anakin’s stance or maneuvering his arms for a more accurate practice but he decides against it. Afterall, this isn’t his Padawan. 

Instead, he leans back against the wall and indulges in watching Anakin's tall body weave through the form. He’s unsteady in the strange new positions but that doesn’t diminish the joy on his face or the fervor of his movements. His elation bleeds through the Force with all the strength of a cracking dam. Anakin’s lightsaber sings through the air, almost hypnotising in its green glow.

Obi-Wan watches Anakin’s strong hands around the saber hilt; how his fingers tighten and release with every move. The strong bulge of Anakin’s shoulders flex underneath his shirt and how the veins in his forearms pulse as they fill with blood. Anakin bites his lip in concentration, the pink skin plumping under the base attention. His cheeks flush with exertion as his brow grows wet with sweat. Obi-Wan watches as Anakin’s eyebrows rise and furrow with his movements and how his lashes are lost in the shadows on his face. 

Breaking from his place along the wall, Obi-Wan steps closer to Anakin, his ears rushing with the surge of his own blood. He licks his lips. “Anakin.” 

Anakin pauses in the middle of the second movement and Obi-Wan’s mind comes back to him. The warm alcohol in his stomach turns sour. His dream about the Council meeting turns in his memory, suddenly crystal clear as if he had lived it himself. 

In the bar over a decadent glass of alcohol and even in his own room with Anakin warm beside him, it had easy to forget about the war. But seeing Anakin like this, with a lit saber in his hand and determined concentration on his face, Obi-Wan’s heart seizes with a rush of guilt. He squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment and sees Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker swinging through a crowd of battle droids with fresh cuts on his face and the Force hovering over him like a thundering storm cloud. 

“I have not been entirely truthful with you, Anakin,” he blurts out suddenly. He winces, unable to take the words back. He sways under the alcohol in his blood.

Anakin turns to him, his arms dropping with this saber still extended. Its tip draggs on the floor,  buzzing and sputtering. He doesn’t look troubled. But he should be. 

“I…” Obi-Wan starts. He has to look down at the hilt of his own saber clutches in his fist. His knuckles are white with the strain. “That is…” 

Anakin switches off his saber and room falls silent but for the soft puffs of their own exerted breathes. “Obi-Wan,” he says with patient fondness, “if whatever you have to tell me means that we can’t see each other anymore, then I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care if you’ve been hiding it from me or not.”

“No,” Obi-Wan can truthfully say. “It isn’t that at all. Its… We haven’t spoken of my dreams in some time, haven’t we?” 

Anakin steps closer but Obi-Wan doesn’t wait for his response before continuing. “I told you that Anakin Skywalker was Knighted. I was very proud. I still am. Or at least, that Obi-Wan is proud. But I’m afraid that their lives look little like my own. They aren’t attending to Senators or making appearances at State events.” He pauses, look up at Anakin’s face. “They’re at war. Generals in a Grand Army of the Republic. They’re off on distant planets fighting day after day after day. For years now.” 

His own words remind him of Anakin’s limp body flying from the roof of a tank and the pain that had erupted in his heart. Of all the times some other horrible event had left one of them hurt or unconscious or on the brink of death. He closes his eyes and looks away. They sting and burn; threatening shameful tears.

“Have you been shouldering this all yourself?” Anakin asks. He cradles Obi-Wan’s jaw between his hands and forcing him to look back up at Anakin’s face. His broad fingers stretch from Obi-Wan’s cheeks down along the ridge of his ears. Anakin’s hot palms burn into his skin. 

“Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s chest heaves from his exercise. A trickle of sweat runs down his neck to soak into to his thin shirt. Obi-Wan watches its progress, humiliated.

“I did not wish to burden you,” he says finally. “I don’t want to compare our lives.”

Anakin shakes his head. “You aren’t comparing anything,” he says softly. “If it weren’t for your dreams we never would have met. They’re a part of you. Of us. You can’t keep them locked away.”

“Anakin, I…” Obi-Wan begins. He licks his lips, the alcohol upsetting the words in his mind. He looks at Anakin’s pink mouth and says “Anakin” as if it's the only word he has left. 

The expression on Anakin’s face ripples and his fingers curl around Obi-Wan’s jaw. His eyes memorize the contours of Obi-Wan’s face with a fond expression.

Obi-Wan leans forward, stepping so close to Anakin’s body that their booted feet scuff against one another and their knees knock. He can smell the sweat on Anakin’s skin. Its heady and warm and it leaves Obi-Wan dizzy. 

He tilts his head up and Anakin's hands squeeze against his neck. His hands scrape across Obi-Wan’s cheeks and up into his hair; his fingers tangling in the strands and holding tight.

Anakin’s first kiss against his wanting mouth is light and tentative. Its brief, only a fleeting press of his lips, before he pulls back and searches Obi-Wan’s face.

Their second kiss lingers with shared breathes and tip of Anakin’s tongue against Obi-Wan’s lips. Obi-Wan’s hands find Anakin’s shoulders and his arms and he grasps and kneads the fabric of his shirt. Anakin’s fingers loosen their grip in this hair and he rubs tenderly at the base of Obi-Wan’s skull before dipping down and trailing his fingers over his neck and along the ridge of his shoulders.

They break apart for a breath and Anakin tilts his head to kiss at the side of Obi-Wan’s mouth and nuzzles at the line of his short hairs of his beard along his jaw before brushing over his lips again. He mumbles against Obi-Wan’s mouth, nonsense and feelings, before inhaling sharply and cupping Obi-Wan’s cheeks in his ardor. 

Obi-Wan savors the hard contours of Anakin’s muscles under his hands. Anakin's smells like he always does, but like this, with his body pressed close to Obi-Wan and his lips soft and hungry against Obi-Wan’s own eagerness, the scent of him overwhelms Obi-Wan. He opens his mouth, moaning, and drags his fingers thought Anakin’s soft hair and down along the sharp angles of his sweaty collarbones.

Anakin moves his mouth from Obi-Wan’s lips to his temple. He plants small, reverent kisses as he goes, his hands slipping down to rub Obi-Wan’s back and stomach before bringing the rough pads of his thumbs to Obi-Wan’s lips.

Obi-Wan’s opens his eyes at the touch, his breath coming in fast puffs. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispers. He leans in again with little urgency to replace his thumb with his lips and they kiss again. 

A chime sounds in the room, delicate but jaring all the same. “Our time is up,” Obi-Wan says, tilting his head to find Anakin’s lips. Anakin’s groans and flicks his tongue gently into the heat of Obi-Wan’s mouth. 

The warm ferver from his stomach settles in Obi-Wan’s cheeks. He smiles when they pull back from each other, a strange sense of joy pulling a flush down his neck to the top of his chest. 

Anakin answers with his own grin and the Force beams around him. He rubs one palm up to cradle Obi-Wan’s bearded jaw and curls his other arm around Obi-Wan’s waist. “I think I’ve forgotten all the stuff you just showed me,” he says laughing. He kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead and trails his kisses down to Obi-Wan’s ear. “I can only think of you. You’re so beautiful.”

Obi-Wan is glad for their closeness and the dim light as his face burns at Anakin’s passionate words. 

“When can I see you again?” Anakin’s lips scrape at the column of his throat and Obi-Wan shivers even though his body feels doused in heat. 

The chime dings again. Louder this time.

Obi-Wan arches his back, trying to feel as much of Anakin as he can. He wants to tell Anakin that he would prefer to see his face in the light of the morning in his bed upstairs.

“Soon,” he says instead.

They head out to the front Hall and down the steps to the Temple entrance. The cool air does little to temper Obi-Wan’s passion. He signs Anakin out, the junior Padawan at the gare looking between them with a particular look on her face. Obi-Wan ignores her. He only has eyes for his friend. 

Unfortunately, they have no other options but to give their polite goodbyes. Obi-Wan keeps his smile hidden as he turns to his room. He hopes he’s given Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi pleasant dreams.

 


	9. Part 2 - Chapter 4

 

_The bodies lie strewn across the floor. I thought I knew what to expect. But I was wrong._  

_Wrong about so many things._  

_The younglings. The creche masters. The young padawans. The old Masters._

_And even the clones._  

_I feel each of their deaths like a weight hung from my chest. I sway under the heavy load, following behind Master Yoda as we head for the holocomm center. I cannot understand his words. I hear him as if in a dream. A nightmare. But I know that I will never wake from it._

_I thought the pain of my own troops’ betrayal would be the worst I could endure._  

_I was wrong._

_I think of Anakin and my heart crumbles under the weight._

_“I will learn who did this,” I say._

_“Learn,” Yoda says, “Know already, you do.”_  

_Changing the beacon with the use of the Force is simple enough. My hands shake, so I let go and let it guide me. This is all I can do to give any surviving Jedi one last chance. A warning._  

_But I must know the truth. I must see._  

_And even blind, I would see this forever. I fumble, grasping at the console. But my knees won’t support me and I fall to the floor. I open my mouth to wail but no sound escapes._

_“Warned, you were,” Yoda says._

_I ignore him. “I should have let them shoot me… No, that was already too late- it was already too late at Geonosis. The Zabrak, no Naboo- I should have died there...before I ever brought him here-”_  

_I should never have met him._

_“I think I know why,” I whisper to myself._

 


	10. Part 2 - Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****Chapters have been moved around/changed form their original format!! Part 3 - Chapter 1 is the first new chapter since April 2018. Sorry for the changes!!!!*****

“Knight Kenobi?" 

Obi-Wan’s head jerks up at his formal title. “Captain Skywalker,” he says, his voice flat. His robes, sodden and hanging from his body, look as if they were made for a man twice his size. 

He’s standing under and overhang just outside the main Temple complex. Its raining; the kind of rain Coruscant sees only a few times a year, with giant gobbs of droplets pelting down in sheets of freezing water. The pounding of it is so heavy that it drowns out the sounds of the air traffic. It fills the gutters up and washes away the dirt of the upper levels down into the deep vastness of Lower Coruscant. They’ll be stories of flooding tomorrow as the poor flee their homes and the rich joke about ‘washing away the filth.’

Anakin comes to stand only a few paces away from Obi-Wan’s refuge. He’s soaked to the bone, his thin white shirt stuck to his chest and his water pooling underneath his boots. His hair hangs in a ratty nest curled around the nape of his neck and plastered against his forehead.

He takes a step closer, reaching out with one hand before letting it drop back down to his side. Water drips from his fingertips in a steady stream. He seems to hesitate before speaking. “You called me, Kenobi?” He asks in half a whisper. 

“I did,” Obi-Wan says. He stares at Anakin’s boots. He takes a deep breath. “Last night… I…” The enormity of the dream strikes him like a blow to the head and he finds himself dizzy with the pain.

Anakin steps close enough that he leaves the rain for the safety of the overhang. “Obi-Wan,” he says softly. “Please, let me help.” 

Obi-Wan balks, his head spinning with Anakin so close. “I should head back to the Temple. I’m needed… My duties- Stars, you probably haven’t…”

“It can wait,” Anakin says patiently. He steps closer to Obi-Wan but doesn’t reach out to touch him. They’re still in full view of the Temple where any Jedi could see. 

“Come back with me. Just for the night.” Anakin says as he bites his lip and fidgets where he stands. Water streams along his cheeks from his soaked hair. “I don’t want to let you sleep alone.” 

Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut at the soft reminder and drops his chin to his chest. He feels bedraggled. Smeared through the mud and spread out to fester like shit in the hot sun. His heart, normally content in its purpose, constricts in his chest full of sorrow and pain. He presses his fist to his mouth to bite down on the meat of his thumb.

Anakin grabs at his fist, pulling it away from his face and curling his own fingers around it in a loose hold. “Karking hell, Obi-Wan. What the hell happened? Is everything…” He tails off, his eyes widen. 

Obi-Wan looks away. His own face isn’t wet enough to hide the tears on his cheeks. 

“Please, Obi-Wan.” 

The sound of the rain muffles the words of a passing group of Jedi. Their hoods are pulled up over their heads to shield them from the worst of the storm, but they look over at Obi-Wan and Anakin as they pass, frowning at the odd sight. Obi-Wan’s face smoothes out into a dull look of complacency as they pass. Anakin’s shoulders tense but he doesn’t turn to them. 

When they’re gone, Anakin’s face hardens into resolve. “You sounded upset so I borrowed a speeder. It's around by the hanger entrance. I know a tech who works there and she-” he stops short. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just meet me there, Obi-Wan.” 

He glances around. The Jedi have disappeared around the corner by the main steps to the Temple plaza. Confident they’re alone as they can be, he steps into Obi-Wan’s space to tug his hood up over his hair “Promise me,” he says, his voice low and gruff in Obi-Wan’s ear, “Promise me that you’ll come.” He drags his thumb down Obi-Wan’s cheek, trailing down the path of his tears. 

Obi-Wan manages to nod his head still keeping his eyes from Anakin’s face. He’s afraid that he looks up at and sees... that he’ll remember exactly- 

“Yes,” he says in barely more than croak, “I’ll come.”

Anakin doesn’t wait for him to change his mind. Turning, he steps back out into the rain and disappears in the wet haze without a word. 

Normally, he would find the rain relaxing. He’s spent many afternoons in the Temple conservatory watching the drops land on the greenhouse roof or puddle out of the exposed terrace gardens. He was always reminded of watching Anakin experience the sight for the first time; the way his jaw went slack and his eyes brimmed with happy tears. Now, those memories are tainted with the storm in his own heart.

Obi-Wan waits for too long before leaving himself. By then, the temperature has dropped significantly and despite his thick robe, he shivers in the icy downpour. He pulls the familiar brown cloth more tightly around his chest suddenly uncaring if another Jedi sees him in such a state.

As always, the hanger bustles with activity despite the weather. A few ships depart as Obi-Wan nears. The rain thrums against them like a drum before they blast out of his hearing range and up into the upper atmosphere. Inside the hanger, the constant heat of burning engines keeps the enormous room warm and dry as techs and droids bustle around the cavernous space. 

He lets his soaked hood down when he enters, looking around for a hint of Anakin’s broad shoulders. Its strange, he thinks, that he can feel so utterly uneasy in a place that he’s lived his whole life in. But last night, he’d wandered through this hanger just as he is now...He looks over towards the main control tower and has to shut his eyes against the vision of blood spattered across the transparisteel and a brown robe tied as a noose. 

The Force stinks with death and anger. It crawls across his skin, tainted, and settles in his mind like hot oil as companion to the image of Anakin kneeling, submitting... A new Master. He’d betrayed them all-

“Knight Kenobi?” 

He jerks at the soft voice, his hand going to his lightsaber. “Yes?” he says, his voice thick. He turns to see a slight Twi'lek with a tool kit. She smiles at him. His fear falls away and he feels ashamed.

“I think you’re looking for station E14,” she says.

“Yes... thank you,” he says but she’s already walked off. 

He finds Anakin easily after that. He’s leaning against a beat up speeder that has an engine bulging out of the plating. He looks up from where he’d been staring at his boots and his face lightens with relief.

They don’t speak. Obi-Wan climbs in the speeder next to Anakin and he pulls up the roof. It occurs to him that he’s sat next to Anakin before like this, but in another life. In this one, they’d always met outside the Temple, far away from any questioning eyes. He regrets it all: that he wasn’t strong enough to help his padawan, that he isn’t strong enough to stand up for his friend now. That he could never give any Anakin Skywalker they respect he deserves.

That he, Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi Order, can never find the courage to love him like he deserves.

No one stops them for clearances or orders as they leave the hanger. And Anakin keeps the speeder at a reasonable pace for the short duration of their trip. Obi-Wan is almost able to leave his thoughts behind under the oppressive roar of the engine and the sight of the skyline slipping by.

When they arrive, Anakin parks in a public lot and they take a lift down a few levels to his tiny apartment. It's nothing more than one open room that reminds him of his own space in the Temple.

Obi-Wan loiters in the middle, unsure of what to do. He’s never been in another’s home before. Certainly, the palaces and sprawling apartments of Senators and political leaders hardley count. None of them had laundry flung on the floor or droid parts scattered across the table or half-drunk cups of caff on the bedside stand. 

Anakin clears his throat, his face red. “Yeah, it's not much but-” 

“It's lovely, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says quietly. “It feels like you.” He realises that he’s dripping onto the floor. “Where can I...my cloak?” 

Anakin hastens to help Obi-Wan peel it off his shoulders and flings it over the back of the only chair to dry. “Please sit,” he says in a whisper.

Obi-Wan hesitates. “I shouldn’t have called you...you shouldn’t need to help me through-”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin say cutting off his pitiful words, “when you called me your hands were shaking so much that the holo was blurry. Oh course I came.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to say or even what to do. He looks down at the dark floor where his boots have left indistinct footprints of water in through the door.

“Now please, sit down.” Anakin pushes him lightly around with a hand on his back. He guides Obi-Wan to the bed and encourages him to sit with a firm hand on his shoulder. He kneels down in front of Obi-Wan and raises Obi-Wan’s hands in his own to press a kiss to the ends of his fingers. His lips leave a burn behind that Obi-Wan can feel in his bones. “Let me help,” Aankin pleads again and Obi-Wan can do nothing but submit.

His boots are covered in sopping filth and grime from the Temple courtyard and Obi-Wan makes a choked noise of protest when Anakin reaches to unzip them. “Anakin, really, I can-”

Anakin ignores him, sliding each boot off of his foot before setting them aside in a dirty clump on the floor. He stands up, pauses, and bites his lip. “Can I help you take off your outer robe? Its too wet to keep on and I can put it in the dryer.”

Obi-Wan looks down at his hands in his lap. They’re still shaking, he realises. Shaking so hard that he- “We took them from their homes,” he says to Anakin’s shoulders. “We promised their families.”

Leaning forward to push Obi-Wan’s damp hair back from his forehead, Anakin furrows his eyebrows. “Obi-Wan? Can I help you with your robe.”

Obi-Wan nods but he doesn’t really understand. His head feels hot, burning, now that they’re out of the rain. His whole body is flushed and his nose clogged. He can’t seem to find enough air to breathe as if a giant creature was sitting on his chest.

He tries to help Anakin with the ties of his tunic. Some of them are hard to find and it's the least he can do. He rolls his shoulders as Anakin helps him peel the thick, damp layer off. Despite his burning skin, he shivers in only his light under tunic and leggings. 

“Do you sleep with socks on?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head and Anakin kneels again to help him with them. Obi-Wan wants to tell him to stop, that none of this is necessary but he can’t find the right words. “I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he says instead. 

Anakin pauses, with one sock off and his long fingers warm around Obi-Wan’s bare foot. He rubs his thumb over the Obi-Wan’s high arch. “You can’t stay awake forever,” he says. He tries for a small smile. “But we can eat something, if you want?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says “I would like that.” 

Anakin smiles up at him, his eyes brightening. Pulling off Obi-Wan’s other sock, he stands in a hurry, “Wizard. I’ll just throw these in the dryer first.” He gathers up Obi-Wan’s clothes and turns to the only other doorway.

Obi-Wan looks around the room, suddenly feeling very foolish without Anakin’s presence. A door slams shut and the low hum of the dryer fills the air.

“Okay?” Anakin asks. 

Nodding, Obi-Wan looks down at his bare feet. “Yes, thank you.” 

He sits in silence while Anakin works. The apartment itself is small with only enough space in the main room for a bed, a tiny table, a chair and the cooking ranges. The windows are tall and broad, however, affording a marvelous view of the small section of buildings outside. They’re close to the bottom of the skyline but the buildings are clean and the walkways outside filled with people despite the rain. 

The sound of the droplets hitting the transparisteel fills the breach where there might normally we words between them. Obi-Wan watches Anakin as he fiddles with the single burner and hums over the contents of his cooler. The methodical tapping of his chopping and scrapping pull Obi-Wan away from the edge. His hands settle in his lap, still for the first time since he woke up.

He pulls his legs up onto the bed and crosses them underneath him. He closes his eyes. 

The Force finds him. 

It trickles in through the cracks in his heart as a soothing balm. It swells up as a pool in his mind that drowns out the dissenting voices of fear and anger. Obi-Wan dips his fingers into its calming waters and knows that he is only drop in a deep ocean. He feels his smallness in the universe. He is like a pebble, tossed about by the stream, only there to follow the bidding of the river. 

He open his eyes and finds tears on his cheeks.

Anakin watches him from the door to the fresher. There is no hum from the dryer. Obi-Wan’s clothes are folded on the bed next to him.

“How long was I gone?” he asks. His voice is raw and tight. He licks his lips to wet them.

“Long enough that I ate half the food,” Anakin says. A small smiles plays on the corner of his lips.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says. He uncurls his legs.

Anakin pushes himself off the door frame. “Still hungry?” he asks. He pops a covered plate into the heater and punches in a few numbers. “There’s plenty, I swear.” 

Obi-Wan nods. “I am,” he says. 

The dream seems more distant now. Still horrible and unbelievable, but faded and hazy. He can’t quite remember all the details beyond the sour feeling in his gut and the cold slice of heartbreak in his chest. The faces of the slaughtered are lost to him. He can’t remember Yoda’s exact words of comfort or what Bail had said when he thought all hope was lost.

All he knows is the heavy pain of seeing the dead sprawled in the Temple. Of seeing Anakin kneeling before a different Master. 

Obi-Wan eats anyways to keep Anakin from hovering. How long has it been since he woke?

“Did you need to work today,” he asks as he pokes at his food.

Anakin flops down on his back next to him on the bed with his arms outstretched. The pile of clothes shakes and wobbles, the socks falling off onto the thick blanket. “No, not for three cycles. Then I’ll be gone for a month. We’re off to the outer rim to make a few runs. Corporate likes to get a few shipments of exotic foods sometimes. Nobody’s told them that a pali isn’t all that exciting.” 

“From Tatooine?” Obi-Wan questions. He remembers a hot, inhospitable planet filled with Qui-gon Jinn’s poor decisions. He twists to see Anakin better, the remains of his food in his lap. He’d had enough. 

“Yeah, grew up there.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t need to remind him that he knows. A splinter of pain lodges in his chest.

“Will you be going to visit your mother while you’re there?” He asks. He winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. Anakin had been devastated by his mother’s death. And angry that the Jedi did nothing to curtail the suffering of slaves. And Obi-Wan himself had- 

Anakin’s warm hand on Obi-Wan’s back distracts him from his thoughts. The younger man’s eyes are fixed on the ceiling but his fingers are idly rubbing up and down, burning through Obi-Wan’s thin shirt.

“...after I left,” he’s saying. “Watto treated her well. But she didn’t have much in her by the end.”

Obi-Wan turns back away from Anakin and lets his chin drop. He stares at the food, hating his rash words. “I am sorry, my dear boy,” he says in a whisper. 

Anakin’s hand pauses on his back. He sits up, jostling against Obi-Wan’s shoulders as the bed shifts under their weight. “It's fine Obi-Wan. It was along time ago. And it's what she wanted. She had been a slave her whole life. Its all she knew. And she was happy, I suppose.” 

For all this training in the art of negotiation and war, Obi-Wan doesn’t know to enunciate a simple statement of compassion. Any platitudes fall far short of his own personal turmoil and they would certainly fail to encompass any grief Anakin might still harbor. If this were Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, he might offer advice. But even then, he would still know that he wanted - needed - to offer more.

“The Jedi have a prophecy,” he says suddenly before he can hold back the words. “It speaks of a chosen one who bring balance to the Force.” 

Anakin nods but waits patiently as Obi-Wan gathers his thoughts at the abrupt comment.

Obi-Wan licks his lips before continuing. “It's an old prophecy. Perhaps too old to be of any use. But some Jedi follow the traditional ways. My own Master, Qui-gon, is one such person.

“In my dreams it was Qui-gon who met you first. When I was still a Padawan, we were assigned to break up a trade dispute between the Nubian monarchy and the Trade Federation. But, there were some complications, to put it simply, and we ended up assisting the Queen in an escape from the planet to plead her case before the Senate. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and we had to land on Tatooine.”

There, Anakin interjects. “It's not a Republic planet. The Trade Federation wouldn’t have any jurisdiction there.”

Obi-Wan smiles despite the story as some part of him is always glad to see Anakin’s abilities put to use. “You’re right,” he says. “Qui-gon met you there. You were still a slave at the time.” He stops, staring out the window. The pain of the memory sharp in his mind. “You helped us find and acquire the parts we needed and my Master helped free you.”

“Because I helped?” 

The words burn on Obi-Wan’s tongue. “No, Anakin,” he says. “Because he thought that you were the Chosen One.”

Anakin says nothing for a moment. He bites at his lip. “Is it true? Was he right?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. Sadness weighs in his heart. “I don’t...,” he says finally, a bit breathless. “I don’t know.”

After a few heartbeats, Anakin gently takes the half-eaten plate form Obi-Wan’s lap and sets it down on the floor where it’s out of the way. Obi-Wan watches, too exhausted to even offer his apologies for wasting food. He says that instead, hating the silence. “I’m tired, Anakin.”

“I know,” Anakin says softly. “Do you want me to take you back? It's still raining.” 

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He can’t bear the thought of seeing the pristine entry Hall filled with Jedi as if, somewhere else, those same Jedi weren’t already- 

“No, thank you. If that’s okay.”

 Anakin nods and stands. The distance between them seems to open up like a black hole at the edge of existence. “Right,” he says as if reassuring himself. “I need to return the speeder. But get some sleep. I’ll be back soon.” He keeps his eyes on the ground. 

Obi-Wan wishes Anakin would look at him. Is this what had happened before Obi-Wan went to Utapau in his dreams? Had that Anakin had pulled farther away from him until the strands of their friendship were all but frayed to the point of rupture? Obi-Wan wants to tell Anakin how important he is - how much he means - but the only words in his head are  _You’ve become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be. You are strong and wise, and I am very proud of you Anakin._  

Those are not the words he needs. 

Instead he nods and watches as Anakin leaves, shutting the door behind him with a quite click. He’s alone in the room so he drops his head into his hands and closes his eyes. The sky grows steadily darker outside even though the rain lightens to a light drizzle. Obi-Wan drags himself underneath the blanket; too tired to think of propriety. 

He’s still awake when Anakin returns. The other man fiddles about the apartment putting things away and turning off lights before he climbs under the covers as well. They don’t say anything to each other in the dark. Obi-Wan thinks that he should feel odd sleeping next to another person after so long alone but Anakin’s presence soothes his mind like no other. 

He falls asleep to the steady rhythm of Anakin’s breath.

_Blade to blade we are identical. After thousands of hours in lightsaber sparring, we know each other better than brothers, more intimately than lovers. We are complementary halves of single warrior._  
_  
In every exchange, I give ground. It is my way. And I know that to strike Anakin down would burn my own heart to ash._

_This is not Sith against Jedi. This is not light against dark or good against evil; it has nothing to do with duty or philosophy, religion or morals._

_It is Anakin against Obi-Wan._

_Personally._

_Just the two of us, and the damage we have done to each other._

_The man I face is everything I have devoted my life to destroying: Murderer. Traitor. Fallen Jedi. Lord of the Sith. And here, and now, despite it all…_

_I still love him._

_Poised on the edge of the river of lava, I sprint into a leaping dive and turn my dive into a forward roll that leaves me barely teetering on the rim of a low cliff, just above the soft black sand of the riverbank. Anakin snarls a curse as he realizes he’s been suckered, and leaps off his droid at my back-_

_My whirl to parry his strike doesn’t met with Anakin’s blade. It meets his knee. Then his other knee. And while Anakin is still in the air, burned-off lower legs only sarting their topple down the cliff, my recovery to guard brings my blade through Anakin’s left arm above the elbow. I step back as Anakin falls._

_Anakin’s drops his lightsaber, clawing at the edge of the cliff with his mechanical hand, but his grip is to powerful for the lava bank and it crumbles, and he slides down onto the black sand. His severed legs and his severed arm roll into the lava below him and burn to ash in the sudden burst of scarlet flame._

_Anakin scrambles at the soft black sand, but struggling only makes him slip farther. The sand itself is hot enough that digging his durasteel fingers into it burns off his glove, and his robes begin to smolder._

_I pick up Anakin’s lightsaber. I lift my own as well, weighting them in my hands. Anakin had based his design upon my own. So similar they are._

_So differently they had been used._

_“Obi-Wan…?”_

_I look down. Flame licks the fringes of Anakin’s robe and his long hair has blackened and is beginning to char._

_I find my voice:_

_“You were the Chosen One,” I cry. Tears burn hot lines down my face as if my very heart were buckling under the pressure. “It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them. It was you who would bring balance to the Force. Not leave it in darkness.”_

_My heart heaves one last breath and falls silent; shirveled in the ruined chasing of my body._

_“You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.”_

_A flash of metal through the sky and I feel the darkness closing in around them both. The Emperor._

_Below my feet, Darth Vader bursts into flame._

_“I hate you,” he screams._

_I look down. It would be a mercy to kill him. Afterall, Anakin is already dead. Murdered by a Lord of the Sith._

_I am not feeling merciful._

_I am feeling calm, and clea, and I know that to climb down to that black beach might cost me more time than I have._

_In the end, there is only one choice. I turn and walk away._

_After a moment, I begin to run._

_I don’t look back._

Obi-Wan wakes with a sob in his throat and a cry on his lips.

He stumbles into the fresher through the darkened room and just barely has time to lean over the toilet before he vomits the meager contents of his stomach up with a horrible retch. Tears flow down his cheeks, unchecked, and drip off his chin as his stomach tenses and undulates. He gasps again, acidic bile choking his airways, and coughs. His strangled sobs echo in the tiny room. 

Sweat drips from his body as it were his own flesh that had been standing alongside that river of fire. Over the putrid odor of his own vomit, the sour smell of burnt skin and scorched cloth lingers in his nostrils. He squeezes his eyes shut but the darkness only brings the terrible sight of black shores and his own heart torn to pieces. Past his retching, Anakin’s vitriol rings in his ears like the shriek of krayt dragon. 

With another sob, he curls his fingers around the rim of the toilet and slumps to the floor. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin questions from the doorway. His voice is hoarse with sleep, his hair mused and stuck to his face with sweat. He moves just enough to block the light from the constant stream of air-traffic from outside the window.

Obi-Wan rests his head against the cool tile floor, his tears running down his nose to drip on the floor. “Get out,” he croaks over his pain. “Kriffing get out!” He flings out a hand using the Force to push Anakin back and away. It's a feeble effort, led astray by his imbalanced mind, and the hot slap of failure smarts against him as Anakin pushes through the door.

“Stars,” Anakin sighs. He collapses to his knees. They crack against the cold tile of the fresher floor. “Obi-Wan.” 

“Get out,” Obi-Wan cries again in a strangled voice, pushing at Anakin’s chest with no real strength. His arms are like heavy sacks of rocks and he can barely hold himself up. The weight of Anakin proves too much for him and he slumps back, his hands lingering on the soft fabric of Anakin’s shirt. “Please,” he croaks. 

Please, he thinks. Please. Please. Please. He has no words for what he wants.

 Anakin ignores him in his stubborn way. His face creases into a firm, determined line. “Come here,” he says, soft but adamant.

Obi-Wan’s weakness overwhelms him as Anakin pulls his body into his lap. He sprawls out, his limbs numb and heavy, against Anakin’s chest and inhales through the rancid taste in his mouth. “No,” he whispers into Anakin’s shirt. “No. I…” 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin mumbles again. His lips brush against Obi-Wan’s ears and his words rumble in his chest. The heat from his body seeps through Obi-Wan’s shirt as his hands rub up and down along the ridge of his spine. “Let me hold you.” 

The Force, held so tightly between them, slips. Anakin’s presence touches him with reverence, light and comforting, and Obi-Wan’s arches up into the contact. He’s desperate for something. Some tangible. To know that Anakin still cares for him. That Anakin hasn’t abandoned him.

He can’t remember ever being held like this. 

He buries his face into Anakin’s neck where the sent of his skin leaves Obi-Wan dizzy.

Had he held Anakin Skywalker like this ever? Had Obi-Wan ever told him how much he wanted to? He can’t remember. 

He doesn’t think he did.

Tears drip from his eyes as Obi-Wan squeezes them shut. His breath stutters.

 Anakin had made his choice. 

“Kriffing Yuuzhan, Obi-Wan. This is killing you.” Anakin whispers. He pushes Obi-Wan’s hair back from his sweaty forehead and chases his fingertips with his lips. He strokes Obi-Wan’s sides and runs his palms down Obi-Wan’s arms and thighs. 

The Force hangs around them like a shroud.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Obi-Wan’s breath freezes in his chest.

Anakin had made his choice.  _I hate you!_

And what had Obi-Wan done?  _I loved you._  

He faces twists with resentment. The roar of the lava and their lightsabers echos in his ears.  _You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you._

“I left him,” Obi-Wan says into Anakin’s shoulder. “I left him there.” 

Anakin tenses under Obi-Wan’s body. Obi-Wan feels his confusion in the Force. The barrier between them gone. “It wasn’t you,” Anakin says quietly. Pateniely. “It was never you.” 

Obi-Wan frowns, searching for the strength to push himself back from Anakin’s chest. “No,” he says. “That’s not right.” His headache returns like a strike to his face. It pushes against the backs of his eyes and punches into the base of his skull as an unrelenting hammer. 

“It was you.” 

Obi-Wan’s looks up at Anakin’s face.

They have the same face. The same nose and eyes and cheekbones. They have the same pouting lips and delicate ears. They have the same eyelashes and sun spots and stubble. The Force hangs from their shoulders with the same devastating power. Underneath their layers of clothing, they have the same arms and fingers and muscles. The same legs and hips. They stand the same, proud and courageous, in their boots. 

They smile at Obi-Wan in the same manner. They tease him. They laugh with him.

They touch him. 

They comfort him. 

Obi-Wan sneers.

Or they did.

He pounds his fists on Anakin’s shoulders. “It was you!” He cries with a sob. He grabs at Anakin’s shirt, twisting and digging his fingers into the fabric. “It was all you! You went to the Temple on the Sith’s orders. You betrayed the Jedi- you killed them all, Anakin! All the younglings and padawans- I can’t even-”

He gasps for a breath, his nose stuffed and his eyes filled with hot tears. The torrent of hateful words falls between them as if Obi-Wan himself had cut the very life out of the man in front of him. He holds on to Anakin’s shirt, afraid he’ll be swept away 

He can no longer look upon Anakin’s face and he twists his neck and body to escape. He reaches for the toilet, trying to catch hold of it to pull himself away from Anakin’s warm hands. His fingers slide against it, sweating and cramped, and he wails in frustration. 

Anakin holds on to Obi-Wan’s thin undershirt, pulling him back onto his lap in a tangle of their limbs in the small space. He huffs into Obi-Wan’s neck, the salt of his own tears smearing against Obi-Wan’s sensitive skin. 

With a broken cry, Obi-Wan slumps back into him and pulls his knees to his chest. His bare feet slide against the cool floor and tangle up with Anakin’s in the dark. The corruption of his guilt poisons his heart and he finds himself raving like a lunatic.

“I don’t understand,” he cries, burrowing his face in his hands. “I don’t understand why! Why does the Force show me this? I can do nothing - nothing - to change their fate. But I’m forced to watch night after night-”

Anakin pulls Obi-Wan back against his chest in a tight embrace. “I don’t know. I don’t know,” he mumbles over and over again into Obi-Wan’s neck with dry lips. “I don’t know how he can do this to you.” He clutches at Obi-Wan harder, his arms like two vices around him.

“I would never hurt you like that, Obi-Wan. Kark.” His words bubble up out of him with a rising swell of the Force and Obi-Wan can feel Anakin’s devotion shining on him like the inescapable burn on the sun. “I’m not him. Please don’t turn away from me. I’m not him. I would love you forever. Please,” he says finally cutting off with his own choking breath, “Please let me love you.” 

Obi-Wan shudders under the press of the Force and the thud of Anakin’s heart against his back. He leans forward, burying his face in between his knees as far as Anakin’s arms will allow. They slouch together, collapsing onto their sides in a tangle of legs and arms on the floor. The tile is cool under Obi-Wan’s cheek.

He lets his eyes close and looks for the Force. 

Its there, unfocused and just out of reach. 

But Anakin is warm next to him. Alive and whole. Burying his face into the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. He stares talking, barely even aware of his own words or if Anakin was listening. They just had to be said. He couldn’t hold them on his chest any longer. 

“My Master asked me to train you when he died,” Obi-Wan says into the tile. “He thought you were the Chosen One. Meant to bring Balance to the Force. He was going to take you on as his own Padawan. But he died.

“You were hot-headed and stubborn. I wanted to show you everything a good Jedi was supposed to be. So I followed every rule. Gave you the best the Order had to offer. I forced myself to ignore your emotional needs. I thought that if I could just show you the best way, you would be able to follow.

“Your mother was killed before you were Knighted. By Tusken Raiders.

“And then the war started. I...I don’t even know how we’ve made it this far. I’ve seen you shot and struck down. Over and over and over. You thought me dead. I thought that I might never see you again. 

“I didn’t see how it was pulling you down. I didn’t see how he was manipulating you. I didn’t see how the Council manipulated you. I ignored it. 

“And now it's too late.

“I thought that after all those years of fighting, that we would die on the battlefield. Maybe from a blaster bolt or from a explosion.”

His tears have run dry by the time he’s finished. They crust over on his face. The shadow of a cruiser passes across the windows and the flood lights on its forward bow flicker over the walls highlighting the fresher in an instant of brightness.

Obi-Wan doesn’t understand how Anakin knows, but he says “You couldn’t kill me.”

An invisible fist squeezes Obi-Wan’s heart until it's nothing more than a crushed lump. “No,” he says in barely more than a whisper. “I left you to die.” He has no excuses. His heart burns with the poison of regret. 

Anakin’s arms tighten around him. His hands open; his palms flattening and pressing on Obi-Wan’s stomach and chest. Obi-Wan relishes the deep rise and fall of Anakin’s ribs as he inhales against Obi-Wan’s back and the tickle of Anakin’s breath against his neck. The small puffs of air ruffle his hair. 

“I made my choice, Obi-Wan,” he says. “And you made yours.”

Obi-Wan keeps his eyes open as the sky eventually lightens outside. The grey haze of the early morning sunrise bleaches the room in the faint tones and cool shades of pastels. The rain stops at some point in the night but it seems to have beaten down the normal bustle of the city and the rush of air traffic and the relentless sky-high advertisements lack their regular boisterous volume. A thick fog of mist snakes around the buildings turing the world outside the apartment into a dreamy haze. 

He doesn’t know if Anakin fell asleep but his arms stays curled around Obi-Wan on the hard floor just the same. They don’t look at one another as they sit up and lean back against the cool wall of the room next to each other. Obi-Wan can’t remember uncurling himself from the floor. 

Anakin hand is cool and dry, however, when he curls his fingers around Obi-Wan’s writs and gently traces the protruding bone at the base of his palm. Obi-Wan allows himself to stare at their hands a take comfort in the differences in skin tone and texture. 

His tears have long since crusted on his face and eyelashes. He makes no effort to rub them off yet. The night seems lost to the shadows.

They eat a light breakfast with only the soft sounds of the outside world to accompany them through the meal. Then, after Obi-Wan helps Anakin with the washing, Obi-Wan pulls his outer robe and socks back on. Anakin watches him from his single chair with elbow resting on the table.

Obi-Wan can’t begin to understand what Anakin might be thinking. Even his own thoughts are lost to him.

They take the train back to the Temple. Obi-Wan has already been away too long and will be looked for to teach his classes. Anakin accompanies him to the bottom of the steps. Already, even so early in the morning, Jedi swarm the area. Obi-Wan cannot look at their faces even to politely bow. 

He turns his back on the Temple and its thousand windows to look up at Anakin’s tan face. “Will I see you again, tomorrow, before your trip?” He asks, surprising even himself. His voice croaks like an old man who’s had too much spice. He steps closer to Anakin and reaches up to rest his hand on the taller man’s forearms. “You’ll be gone for a month after all.” 

Anakin smiles, his face alight in the new sun. “Yeah?” He asks, cocking his head. “You already missing me, Obi-Wan?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says and it's the truth. He smiles up at Anakin’s face and thinks briefly about the other Jedi that will be watching their spectacle. He finds he doesn’t care about their opinion. He had already given up too much to see their ideals realized and has only their deaths on his hands to appease him. “I will. I always do.” 

Anakin’s smile softens and he pushes the fringe of Obi-Wan’s hair back and away from his face. “I know,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to say it.” 

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I do, I think. I do need to say it. I haven’t said it enough.” He slides his hand up Anakin’s arm to rest his palm over Anakin’s chest and leans forward to press a soft kiss to Anakin’s lips. “I’ll miss you.”

“Kriff,” Anakin’s says, low and with wonderment, his face reddening. “Then, when we were in the Temple and I...well... you don’t regret it?”

“You have unraveled me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. “I am not the man you first met at the top of these very steps. I hope that I have learned from his mistakes.” 

Anakin’s face falls like he assumes the worst but Obi-Wan would not tease him. He sighs and leans up to kiss Anakin again with the sun on his face and the breeze against his skin. Anakin’s hands settle around his waist and his lower back, like a prayer for him to stay. 

“I have learned that I love you, Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine” Obi-Wan mumbles into his lips. “Although not as much as you deserve.”

Anakin’s arms pull Obi-Wan close at his words, crushing him against his broad chest and burying his face in his neck. His breath leaves his lungs in a bark of surprise and he stammers endearments in Obi-Wan’s ear. “I love you too. I love you. I love you.”

Obi-Wan tilts his head to breath in the smell of Anakin’s hair and the lingering odor of his skin. He wraps his own hands around Anakin’s shoulders and grips at the material of his shirt until his knuckles turn white. He closes his eyes and lets the Force wash over him like the tide on the shore. 

There might be Jedi staring. Perhaps commenting under their breath about the impropriety of his actions.

Obi-Wan’s finds he doesn’t care. 

Anakin pulls back from him, his face soft with adoration. “I’ll miss you,” he says.

Obi-Wan smiles up at him, his hands lingering on Anakin’s arms. “As will I, my dear Anakin.”


	11. Part 3 - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **First new chapter since April 2018 - sorry for the changes!**

_ I wake in the morning to the dim light of the first sun filtering in through the slatted windows. Thankfully, it's early enough that the air is still cool and the walls of the buried dome haven’t yet become saturated with heat. I lean my head against the cool walls focusing on my breath and the shift of the sand just outside. _

_ I do the much the same every morning before I rise. I haven’t changed my routine since my first day in the Wasteland.  _

_ Wake. Meditate. Eat.  _

_ My daily life occupies my thoughts. I have little time to spare for contemplation beyond the the never-ending search for water and the hassle of keeping my bed clear of mites.  _

_ Its warm enough already, however, that I sit up and rid myself of my thin blanket. After living half my life on Coruscant and in the cold of space, I cannot sleep without it. But in this Tatooine heat, it acts like more a crutch than a necessity. Underneath, I have only a thin pair of shorts and ratty shirt to retain my dignity.  _

_ I test my connection with the Force and search for its presence. Ever since my last day on Coruscant, the taste of it has grown less than savory. Now, I reach for it only to reassure myself that it hasn’t been corrupted beyond all recognition.  _

_ I takes only ash on the back of my tongue.  _

_ Sometimes I wonder if I even know a Force untainted by Darkness. I am not sure if I can accurately distinguish between the Force as it was when I was a youngling and the Force as it was when I was a Master. Everyday has felt the same. Was there ever a light in the never-ending twilight?  _

_ But now, Obi-Wan is gone and there is only Ben to takes his place. Ben cares little for philosophizing.  _

_ I sit up fully, my blanket falling to my lap, and cross my legs. The sun form the tiny window creates a square of light on my chest.  _

_ I breath in and out.  _

_ And frown.  _

_ My eyebrows furrow as I clench my jaw.  _

_ There’s a ripple there. Something - a disturbance perhaps. _

_ My mind immediately thinks of soft arms and conforming words. I squeeze my eyes shut to push away the thoughts.  _

_ I think of my day instead.  _

_ Wake. Meditate. Eat.  _

_ I stand up from my bed before my good sense and stop my limbs from moving. I stumble about my small hovel, tripping over the remains of a water collector’s innards spread out on the floor and stubbing my toe on the wooden trunk in the main living area. I head straight towards the rudimentary fresher and gather up the stained robes I’d cleaned the night before with a bit of chemical cleaners. They aren’t sanitized yet, but I tug them on anyways, doing up the various ties in a flurry of fingers.  _

_ I’m tugging on boots as fast as I can manage over my bare feet before reaching for my cloak. _

_ Almost without my consent, I reach across the void in my mind to find what peace I can.  _

_ Luke is there. Not so far away. Safe in the home of his family.  _

_ But someone else is there as well.  _

_ I push the thought away.  _

_ Dreams are for silly young Jedi.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. I have the next chapter written but it needs to be edited. Expect it early next week <3


	12. Part 3 - Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jane Austen dialogue is strong with this one.

Obi-Wan arrives exactly at the time the invitation indicates as any responsible Jedi should. He’d chosen to wear his robes for the event, still slightly unsure if he’d been invited as Knight Kenobi or Obi-Wan Kenobi; it was difficult to tell when the host is both Senator and Prince of Alderaan and a good friend.

A protocol droid answers the door when he rings, immediately taking his robe and handing him a cool drink. “I believe you’ll find Senator Organa in the main room, Knight Kenobi,” the droid says when he asks.

The entry hallway, dotted with lacquered doors and framed prints, leads him out into the main living area. The room is large with dark paneled walls and luxurious sofas flanking a stocked fireplace. He isn’t the first to arrive as there are a few scattered groups of people holding drinks and conversing already. Droid and sentient servers bustle about, coaxing the guests to sample various small foodstuffs and refill their glasses.

Bail catches sight of him as soon as he steps foot into the sunken room. “Knight Kenobi,” He says with a wide, but polite, smile as they bow to one another. “Thank you for attending.”

A few of the guests look over at his greeting. They tilt their heads to see; some of their faces pinching with surprise. Obi-Wan focuses his attention on Bail to ignore their whispering.

“I was honored to receive an invitation, Senator.”

Bail’s polite smile cracks into a larger, more personal grin. He makes an aborted movement to pull Obi-Wan into a hug and, instead, settles for placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ve ordered those canapés from Naboo you’re so fond of.”

He makes a motion at one of the servers, and the droid swiftly delivers the delicacy to them with a flourish. Obi-Wan sends Bail a brief, bale look but compiles with the bribe all the same.

“So,” Bail says without preamble, “When should we expect your Captain?”

Obi-Wan almost chokes on his food and quickly washes it down with his drink. He grimaces at the taste; its straight alcohol. “He’s on his way from the Docks now,” he says with a croak.

Bail grins, nodding in a vigorous manner. “Good. Good! I’m excited to see him. It's been too long.” He leans in closer. “And don’t expect that I’ll be letting you leave tonight without a good tale. Teasing you is far too enjoyable.”

Obi-Wan looks away, his face coloring. “You’re drunk,” is all he says, but he can’t help but smile a bit at his friend’s enthusiasm.

Laughing, Bail squeezes his shoulder. “Please. Of course not.” Someone catches his eye near the front entrance, and he relays his excuses before darting off. Obi-Wan looks for the server with the canapés, taking the opportunity to regain his composure.

Not long after he arrives, just after the sun starts to set, the party begins to fill with people. He recognizes many of them from the Senate floor but knows few of them in a more personal manner. He’s introduced to several new acquaintances over the course of the evening, and despite the clientele, only two or three converse with him for any length of time. Mostly, his conversations extend to the quality of the food, the jovially of the music and basic comments on the weather.

He does have the chance to speak with Senator Mon Mothma for an extended time. She chastens him early in the conversation and insists that they should address each other without their titles at such an informal event. He agrees, despite the fact that she’s wearing a gown so lovely that he can barely look at her. Somehow, by the end of the conversation, he’s won an invitation for an extended stay at her home on Chandrila. She leaves him in a whirl of soft perfume and a light touch; and he stands, stupefied, before he’s accosted by the Under-Secretary of the Municipal Courts.

Bail saves him by jostling up at his shoulder, a drink in both hands. He nods in the direction of the doorway. “Your special someone is here, o’ Knight Kenobi,” He says, the beverages sloshing in their glasses.

Obi-Wan’s gaze darts over to the main entrance, his heart in his throat at the sight of Anakin. He looks out of place in the grandeur of Bail’s apartments in his leather britches and soft shirt. But his tall boots are cleaned and shining, and confidence manifests in his straight posture.

Obi-Wan makes his excuses and goes to him instantly, ignoring the feeling of Bail’s elation at his back.

“Anakin,” he says, bowing in a formal manner but displaying his happiness as a smile on his face and a warm though through the Force. “Welcome back to Coruscant.”

Anakin returns the bow, a bit awkwardly. “It’s good to be back.” He smiles at Obi-Wan. “I was glad to be back in time to accept Senator Organa’s invitation.”

Obi-Wan steps up closer to Anakin, brushing their shoulders together and tangling their fingers for an instant. “He’s anxious to see you again. But be forewarned; I’m sure he means to tease you incessantly. Apparently my-”

Someone begins to clink cutlery on their glass causing a ringing tinkle to filter through the conversation to bring the guests’ attention to the center of the room. Soon, the guests settle into a quiet audience with only the soft music disturbing the peace. Obi-Wan turns to watch as Bail climbs up onto one of the low drink tables in the seating area. He sways a bit, the crowd sucking in a collective breath of air, before he spins to face them and spreads his arms wide.

Anakin steps up close to Obi-Wan’s back and leans down to whisper in his ear. “I knew these parties were all just an excuse to get wasted.”

The edges of Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up and he has to cover his mouth with hand as his shoulders shake.

“Friends!” Bail proclaims, raising one of his glasses. “Thank for attending to this lonely, old Senator!”

The crowd chuckles at the joke, some raising their own glasses in salute.

Bail continues, unfettered. “As I’m sure you are all very aware, my home is your home. Please make yourselves as comfortable as you can.” His face sobers for a moment and he points into the crowd with his other drink. “Except for you, Orlyn Bedu. I haven’t forgotten yet that last year you convinced Marsupain to put my name in for the Mass Marketing Campaign and I’ll never forgive you for it.”

The audience erupts into laughter, many of the Senators present turning a bit red at the reminder. Obi-Wan smiles at the joke although he doesn't understand the particulars; he’s too familiar with Bail’s sense of humor to know it is all in good jest. Orlyn Bedu only raises her own glass and yells out, grinning, “You did look stunning in that ad for voter registration on Mandalore!” More of the crowd roars at the return.

Bail shakes his half-full glass at her, sloshing a bit of liquid over the side and ignoring the jeers. “In retribution, my dear Lady, I insist that you submit to being my dance partner for the first round.”

Laughing, Orlyn tips her glass back, finishing the last of it, passes it off to a nearby guest. “I will suffer this degradation with humility,” she says and steps forward.

On cue, the music in the background swells upwards as many of the guests rush to pair up or step backwards to allow the dancers more space.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me that the Jedi don’t dance,” Anakin says as they move towards the wall.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says putting his nose in the air in mock disdain. “That would be insupportable at an event such as this.”

Anakin chuckles. “Always so dramatic.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers find Anakin’s elbow, and he squeezes lightly. “Please don’t let my social shortcomings stop you from having a good time. If you would like to dance, you don’t need to hold back on my account,” he says, much more serious.

Anakin shrugs. “I came to see you, though.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan says. He feels a flicker of satisfaction in his heart. “Then I shall take this opportunity to introduce you. I believe that you once expressed a desire to meet the Chancellor.”

Anakin jerks back, his eyes widening. “What?” He leans in closer, his eyes darting about the room. “She’s here?”

“Yes. And looking stunning, I might add.” Obi-Wan taps his finger on his chin in exaggeration. “Perhaps I won’t introduce you. You might find her gown more enticing than these silly robes.”

He feels Anakin’s burst of embarrassment in the Force as the man flushes. Then, just because he wants to see Anakin’s reaction, he says “I have a strong feeling that she’ll enjoying making your acquaintance.”

“Oh,” Anakin sighs. “Is she…” He trails off, unsure of his question.

It’s been months since a hazy version of Obi-Wan stood on Senator Padme Amidala’s neutral carpet with his heart torn to shreds in his chest. He remembers her look of pity and her direct accusation: “ _You love him, don’t you? I’ve seen it.”_ He looked away in shame; the fear of his attachment forced to stand trial under the harsh light of Anakin Skywalker’s actions. He didn’t answer her.

At least this time, Obi-Wan can speak truthfully. “She is a great woman,” he says. “And a good friend. I believe that he cared for her deeply.”

The memory of her body, sprawled out on edge of the platform on Mustafar, feels far away. Instead, his attention is captured by the beautiful visage of her smiling face across the room as she dances with a jovial Munn. She’s laughing with bright eyes and the flush of life on her cheeks. She must have looked like that at some point in that other place as well, but Obi-Wan cannot remember it. She always was beautiful; but sad. Rising to every new threat with unmatched passion and resilience.

Except the last challenge.

“Can I interest you in another drink?”

A droid waiter steps into Obi-Wan’s view, bringing his attention back to the immediate vicinity with a jolt.

“No… No. Thank you,” He says, placing his own, finished drink on the tray before the server moves on. Obi-Wan glances over at Anakin again and runs his empty hand through his beard. “I apologize. I’ve been… Stars. I hardly know.”

The music changes in the background, and Obi-Wan is distracted by Bail making his way towards them. Giving Orlyn a kiss on the cheek and hearty laugh, Bail spins through the press of the crowd on their way to the dance area and weaves through the bevy of other guests trying to solicit his attentions.

“Knight Kenobi!” he calls. “I haven’t had the opportunity to say good evening to your friend.” He stops just short of them, bowing and reaching for Anakin’s hand. “Master Skywalker. I’m so glad you could come. Obi-Wan has been in high dudgeon since you left.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms over his chest, frowning.

Bail ignores him and turns to Anakin. “Since I am sure he is determined to be difficult, I hope that you will join me in antagonizing him.”

Anakin looks a bit overwhelmed, his eyes flicking between Obi-Wan and Bail.

Bail continues on, purposely oblivious. “Hold this, won’t you, Obi-Wan,” he says, thrusting both his drinks into Obi-Wan’s hands. “Come, Skywalker. I am in need of a partner.”

Anakin manages to set down his own drink on a nearby table as Bail leads him towards the dance area. He glances back at Obi-Wan, his eyes wide and his face growing in redness.

Obi-Wan sends him a thought of encouragement, more amused that anything.

Their dance is jolly with quick steps and light turns. Anakin does well, his jaw clenched in concentration but his feet sure and ture. Eventually, he hold on Bail’s waist loosens and he takes the time personalize the dance a bit with a bit more fancy footwork. Bail seems to find the adventure pleasing and he winks at Obi-Wan multiple times as Anakin swings him about the floor.

Throughout the rest of the night, Obi-Wan keeps his eyes on Anakin as he exchanges one partner for another. After his fast dance with Bail, he latches on to a more demure Riyo Chuchi from Pantora for a slower rendition of Bail’s mad movements. Then, he’s approached by a tall, slender woman whom Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize, and they slide into a stiff minuet.

Every movement of his shoulders and twist of his hips draws Obi-Wan’s eyes. His face is alight in the dim glow from the lamps with a smile stretched wide across his tan face. Obi-Wan can’t help but watch the way his fingers bend and twine around his partners’ hands. Every now and then, if the dance calls for it, he’ll cradle their waists or shoulders in a strong embrace; guiding and confident.

Before he knows it, Obi-Wan has finished both of Bail’s drinks. For the first time, he’s annoyed that, as a Jedi, he needs to decline a exhibit on the dance floor.

At some point during a reel in which Anakin has claimed Chancellor Naberrie’s hand, Obi-Wan’s attention is pulled in by the new head of the Agriculture Committee and they strike up a animated conversation about the AgriCorps. It's a stimulating conversation, and Obi-Wan is happy to debate the merits of hydroponics in Coruscant’s lower levels with someone equally as knowledgeable. Every now and then, he feels a burst of warm emotion from Anakin. His delight and pleasure filtering through Obi-Wan’s thoughts like the balmy heat of moving meditation.

The evening winds down as the music slows to accommodate the stumbling steps of inebriated partygoers and the lateness of the evening. The servers bring out a few rounds of warm beverages and hand out pieces of rich cakes. Both of which settle heavily into Obi-Wan’s stomach and cause his eyelids to droop.

It isn’t until the last guest shrugs on their heavy coat and gives their thanks to Bail, that Anakin slumps over on a deep sofa with his fluttering energy. Obi-Wan takes the sofa opposite him, leaning into the decadent feel of the warmth of the flames on his face. Other than the crackling of the fire and the low music in the background, the room is distinctly quiet after the departure of the exuberant guests.

Bail collapses beside Obi-Wan with a tired huff. “Well,” he says, leaning back into the large cushions. “Was it a success, do you think?”

“You know very well that it was,” Obi-Wan teases, gesturing to Anakin who is all but nodding off. “Hopefully all of your other guests manage to make it to their beds before passing out.”

Anakin’s manages a small smile. “Har har,” he says. “No one else just got off a three month trip along the Corellian Run and then got swung around by a Besalisk during a gig. I’ve earned my sleep tonight.”

Bail laughs, throwing his head back; still exuberant despite the late hour. “I would say so!”

Obi-Wan leans forward in his seat, placing a hand on Anakin’s knee across the distance between the two sofas. “Can I take you home? You don’t look fit to fly.”

“Nonsense,” Bail interjects, his drink sloshes a bit in his grasp. “You can both stay the night. I’ve got bedrooms and beds enough to prove our chastity if need be.”

Obi-Wan jerks at the comment, his fingers twitching. Anakin opens one eye to peer at him, and Obi-Wan flushes under the attention. He isn’t sure if he’s more embarrassed by Bail’s lack of decorum or his own innate reaction to such an articulation of their relations.

He squeezes Anakin’s knee to apologize.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, trying to stay measured. “I would appreciate that.”

Bail opens his mouth to say something when Anakin abruptly stands, Obi-Wan’s hand falling away. “Thank you, Senator,” Anakin says. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on that now. I’m sure you and Obi-Wan have a lot to catch up on.”

Blinking, Bail recovers gracefully and stands as well. “Yes. Of course,” he says, sounding more sober than he has all evening. Obi-Wan doesn’t think for a moment that he’s actually been intoxicated at all. “Let me show you to your room.”

Anakin looks at him, more serious than Obi-Wan has ever seen him. “Good night, Obi-Wan.”

“Yes. Good night, Anakin,” he says politely.

“This way,” Bail says, and they disappear down one of the many hallways. Obi-Wan turns his attention back to the fire.

Within a few minutes, Bail rejoins him and takes Anakin’s seat. Silently, he passes a fresh drink to Obi-Wan, and they clink their glasses together before taking a sip.

“He’s quite the man,” Bail says, leaning back into the cushions.

Obi-Wan refuses to rise to the bait and instead keeps attention focused on the deep amber of his beverage. He takes another taste.

Of course, Bail is unhindered and smirks at Obi-Wan suddenly. “Tall. Handsome. And terribly nice. Dear stars, Obi-Wan. Where did you find such a person on his hellscape of a planet?”

“My dear Senator,” Obi-Wan says, the corners of his lips twitching. “I’m not sure if you are describing Anakin or yourself. Is this your way of finally confessing to me after all these years?”

Bail chuckles, hiding behind his own glass. “You’re changing the subject, Knight Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan flushes. “It’s a rather complicated and convoluted story, I fear.”

“I would be disappointed in anything else,” Bail prompts again.

Seeing Obi-Wan hesitance, Bail sets his glass aside on a small table and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his face loosing it’s teasing smile and drawing more serious. “Does anyone else know? Have you confided in anyone?”

Looking at the fire again, Obi-Wan spins his glass in his hands. “My Master is, of course, suspicious. He watches me more closely than I would prefer. The Council, though…” he trails off, considering his next words. “That they have not been informed, is all I can assume. I doubt that they would give credence to my actions by either explicit approval or by inaction. They must be unaware.”

“Is it usual for the Council to meddle so much in the day-to-day lives of the Order? I had not thought them so ....” He waves his hand through the air, searching for the more accurate word. “Nosey.”

Obi-Wan shrugs, the motion feeling callous but appropriate. “I confess I do not understand their ways.”

“And Master Jinn?”

“He is opposed,” Obi-Wan says as simply as possible.

Bail makes a noise of derision and slumps back against the cushions again. “I apologize, Obi-Wan. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I should have known that it would be… well.” He doesn’t seem to know how to finish his sentence. His foot taps against the soft carpet silently despite his boots.

Obi-Wan waves a hand dismissively through the air. “No, it’s quite alright. I’ve heard - I know - that it’s healthy to be discussing these things. I’ve kept a lot to myself these past few years. I should have…I needed to speak with someone. It’s just not the Jedi way.”

Bail considers this, his head tilted to the side as he runs a hand through his beard. “Has Anakin helped you in this?”

Obi-Wan meets Bail’s eyes for a moment and flushes. “Yes,” he says. “He is very supportive.”

That seems to break the tense atmosphere, and Bail grins at him. “Then I will repeat what I said earlier and proclaim him a handsome man. And in possession of a strong constitution.” He pauses for dramatic effect, sucking in a huge breath of air. “He’ll need one, dealing with your lot.”

The absurdity of the statement drags a laugh from Obi-Wan and his shoulders shake with the intensity of it. Bail looks on, pleased at his own wit, and takes another sip of his drink. “Do you think me to be exaggerating?”

“No,” Obi-Wan says, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

Bail stands, slamming his drink down again with exuberance. He holds out his hand to Obi-Wan. “Good. Because as we both know, a politician never exaggerates.”

Obi-Wan eyes the hand with one raised eyebrow. “I believe the exact idiom is ‘Politicians are not to be trusted.’”

Bail laughs again, wiggling his fingers for Obi-Wan’s attention. “I believe that you are confusing your own wisdom with popular knowledge, my friend.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan says in a non-committal answer. He smiles, clasping Bail’s hand and allows himself to be helped to his feet. Bail gently takes his glass from him and sets it on another nearby table.

“Shall we?” Bail questions, sweeping his hand back to encompass the room.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. Clearly the alcohol has finally began to take effect. “You assume a great deal,” he says as he steps into Bail’s personal space. His hands settle into Bail’s warm palms.

“Volume increase to moderate,” Bail says over his shoulder before leading Obi-Wan out towards the open area by the sofas. The music swells instantly. “I believe I assume correctly.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize the song - he rarely does - but the steps are familiar enough with his friends leading them. Bail clasps his hands gently and pulls him into a loose embrace. It's a bit scandalous, how close they are, but no one is left to see the impropriety of their actions.

They take a few steps in a vague rocking motion to acclimate themselves before Bail twists his wrists ever so slightly and whips them off in a new direction. Obi-Wan finds that his feet remember the motions admirably and soon enough he’s relaxing into the steps and the pleasant company.

“Will young Skywalker be jealous, do you think, that I’ve had the opportunity to twirl you around the room and he hasn’t?” Bail says into Obi-Wan’s ear. His tone is conspiratorial, and he squeezes Obi-wan’s hands with mirth.

Obi-Wan smiles into Bail shoulder. “I can’t decide who is more jealous. Anakin; for being deprived of a dance. Or you; with the thoughts of whose bed I’ll be retiring to after you’ve bolstered my spirits. I believe that Anakin will be reaping the benefits of our waltz more so that anyone else.”

Laughing, Bail swings him around in wide arch about the living area before they come back together in a loose embrace. “How scandalous! Tell me, Knight Kenobi. How do you find his company upon closer acquaintance.”

“I find it to be none of your business,” Obi-Wan retorts, his lips betraying his good humor.

“Ah,” Bail sighs, dramatically. “Gone are the days when I was the confidant of the most beautiful Knight in the galaxy. Now I am resigned to only polite conversation.”

The music slows, fading into an almost somber tune, and Bail adjusts their steps so that they match its pace. Obi-Wan leans forward with the new motions, laying his forehead on Bail’s shoulder as their steps loose voracity. He breathes in, smelling a bit of the alcohol they’d been drinking and the lingering hint of Breha’s perfume.

“You know very well that you will always be my confidant,” Obi-Wan says.

Bail leans now to kiss the crown of Obi-Wan’s head gently. “I would be honored to continue my service, dear Obi-Wan,” he says, mumbling into Obi-Wan’s hair. “Stars know that you bottle everything up for far too long.”

Obi-Wan sighs, tilting his head to lay his cheek on Bail’s shoulder. “I do,” he agrees. “And I’ve decided to stop. No more secrets.”

Bail nods as their movements slow to a stop. He pulls back form Obi-Wan so they can look at each other’s faces clearly. “I’m glad to hear it, my friend.” He smiles, looking a bit sad around the edges of his eyes.

Bail raises one of Obi-Wan’s hands to his lips and lays a delicate kiss on Obi-Wan’s fingers. “I believe that your Skywalker is waiting for you.”

Obi-Wan smiles back but steps away. “Yes, thank you Bail.” He bows, a bit stiff and formal, but finds it most appropriate way to express his gratitude. His heart swells at the love from his dear friend.  “Good night.”

“Good night, Obi-Wan.”

He finds the lights in Anakin’s borrowed room already lowered and needs to allow his eyes time to adjust before he can pick his way over to the bed. Anakin rustles under the sheets as Obi-Wan sits on the edge of the bed and sheds his outer robes and boots.

Anakin rolls over to face him, his eyes bleary in the dim light from the windows. “You comin’ in?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says simply. “Move over.”

Anakin complies readily, shifting so that there is plenty of space for Obi-Wan to crawl underneath the covers and settle in with space between them.

“Did you have a good time?” Anakin mumbles. His hand brushes against Obi-Wan side, but he pulls back.

“I did. It was a nice distraction.”

Anakin hums, clearly tired.

Obi-Wan grips the edge of the blanket. Tentatively, he brushes against Anakin’s mind in the Force. “I’ve missed you,” he confides. This words seem too loud in the soft quiet of the luxurious room.

He can feel Anakin’s abrupt attention like the illumination of a spotlight. However, he’s restrained when he bumps back against Obi-Wan. “Me too.”

They don’t speak again for a while, each listening to the distant hum of the air traffic and the rush of the heating system in the room, before Obi-Wan rolls over onto his side and props up his head on his hand. “Hello.”

Anakin smiles at him. “Hey.”

Within Obi-Wan’s next heartbeat, he’s made up his mind. He leans forward, the weight of his body crashing down on Anakin’s as their lips meet in a flurry of heat. Obi-Wan threads his fingers through the strands of Anakin’s curls and climbs on top of him, pulling Anakin’s head up for a better angle.

Anakin groans into Obi-Wan’s mouth as his his hands knead up along Obi-Wan’s tights and waist. He grabs onto Obi-Wan’s hips with a bruising grip, pulling him down against his chest. They grapple for a moment; squirming and pushing for a better position before Anakin sits up fully and runs his hands up Obi-Wan’s back.

Obi-Wan fists a handful of Anakin’s hair and tilts his neck to the side to that his lips can drag a trail down to Anakin’s shoulders. Anakin moans; grinding his hips up and holding Obi-Wan tight around the waist. “You could have said,” he gasps in between kisses to Obi-Wan’s jaw, “That you didn’t want it sweet, you know.”

Laughing, Obi-Wan tugs at Anakin’s shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side. He dives back for another taste of Anakin’s chest and licks a streak up over one of his nipples. “I didn’t know until now.”

“Kark,” Anakin curses. His hands tremble for a moment before his body seems to catch up with the situation.

Obi-Wan feels Anakin’s ardor and lust roll over him like a wave of heat. It puddles in his lap, and he arches his back, pressing himself up against Anakin’s front.

Anakin’s grinds his hips up against Obi-Wan’s, and Obi-Wan jerks at the sudden hard pressure against his length. He pushes at Anakin’s shoulders; torn between giving himself more room to maneuver and wanting to keep their intimate connection. He’s waited for this for so long - for longer than he ever realizes - and the practical part of his mind says that he should savor it.

He pushes harder, the last hint of his patience burned to ashes. He will no longer flounder in inaction, letting the years pass him by with nothing but heartbreak and agony to show for it.

“Lay back,” he says into Anakin’s ear. He curls his tongue around the edge of the hard shell if only because he can. “I’m going to suck you off.”

“You… you-” Anakin pants. He’s breathless and wanton, staining against Obi-Wan as his body shivers with pleasure.

Obi-Wan allows his own ecstasy to slam against Anakin’s mind and he moans as the connection between them finally slips into place. He pushes against Anakin’s shoulders again, forcing him to lay back against the headboard as he slides down the length of Anakin’s body to settle in between his spread legs and divest him of his bottoms.

At the first slide of his slicked lips, Anakin’s head falls back, his mouth open. It's been a while, but Anakin’s appreciation urges Obi-Wan on as he kisses and licks his way around the stiff organ. Anakin’s arousal curls around his own smoldering passion as he sucks a bit on the red head and uses his fingers to fondle and stroke.

“Holy kriffing hell,” Anakin moans. His hands find their way to Obi-Wan’s shoulders and then his hair. Fingers skirt around his mouth, touching and feeling their way to circle his lips and tease at his tongue.

Obi-Wan rocks his hips in response and slides lower onto the bed so that his shoulders brush Anakin’s knees. He ducks his head, Anakin’s length bumping lewdly against the back of his throat, heavy on his tongue and hot with need. The shock of his own fervor drives his body as he grinds down against the sheet. Even through the soft fabric of his pants, the friction teases another moan from his lips.

Anakin’s fingers brush along Obi-Wan’s beard and he raises his head to watch. His cheeks are flushed, beads of perspiration matting his curls to his forehead. He looks beautiful with is mouth open in a gasp of revelation. “Stars, Obi-Wan- I’m…” he pants.

Obi-Wan rocks his hips into the mattress again, leaning over to swallows Anakin down as far as he can. He chokes a bit, his throat spasaming around Anakin’s girth, as spit puddles in his mouth and makes it difficult to breathe.

He feels Anakin’s climax roar up like a fire doused with oil. It crests at a peak, Anakin’s hips jerking and stuttering, before rolling forward in a numb wave of pleasure. Overwhelmed, Obi-Wan swallows around his own gasp of pleasure as he rubs down into the sheets with abandon. His own orgasm chases after, almost as an afterthought, up through his toes and his fingers and out through his mouth in a whine of completion.

For a few breaths, he can only lower his forehead to Anakin’s heaving abdomen and rest his cheek next to Anakin’s softening sex. He takes a moment to listen to Anakin's panting breaths and to luxuriate in the feel of Anakin’s strong fingers rubbing circles into his neck. He sighs out a breath, more content than he can ever remember being.

Anakin’s head tips back down to stare at Obi-Wan. His pupils are blown out; his face looking wild in the dim light. “The kark is that, Obi-Wan?” He gasps, trying to catch his breath. “I barely even go to kiss you properly.”

Obi-Wan smiles and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, crawling with lazy limbs up Anakin’s long body to drape himself across the man’s chest. “How impolite of me,” he mumbles. Leaning back so he can see Anakin’s face, he tips his head to the side. “Kiss me, then,” he says quietly.

Anakin’s face softens. “Okay.” He uses both his hands to cup Obi-Wan’s face and presses their lips together gently. Obi-Wan hums under the attention, his thoughts drifting as his body tingles with the remains of his orgasm. His pants are sticky, but he hardly cares.

Anakin pulls back, his eyes memorizing Obi-Wan’s face like when they kissed beneath the Temple in the training room.

Obi-Wan covers one of Anakin’s hands with is own as Anakin kisses him lightly again. “Okay,” he echos. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> selcier.tumblr.com
> 
> As always, please leave any constructive criticism! 
> 
> Parts of this fic are taken from the 2008 The Clone Wars series and the novelization of Revenge of the Sith.


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